Novel Full Chapter 1924: Should I Meme This?
Chapter 1924: Should I Meme This?
Villain Ch 1924. Should I Meme This?
Allen didn’t say anything, but inside? He felt it. That cold pressure behind his ribs. That distant ache you get from an old wound being prodded just right. No bleeding. But yeah—it still burned.
Vivian nudged his side. “You good?”
He didn’t look at her. “Yeah,” he muttered.
Azura caught that. Her hand brushed his subtly under the table, warm, grounding. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.
Jane smirked at the screen. “This chat is savage. It’s like a gladiator pit down here.” She grinned like a fox who found dynamite. “Drama is trending. Drama is attention. And attention?” She raised her brows. “Attention is money.”
Zoe flopped back against the plush armrest, rolling her eyes. “You’re making a whole TED Talk right now.”
“No,” Jane corrected. “I’m making Allen see she’s a goddamn emotional stock market. She crashes for profit.”
Shea muttered, “SophiaCoin going down like crypto in 2022.”
Bella added, “Except crypto made more people rich.”
Allen finally leaned back and crossed his arms. The mountain villa around them glowed with soft golden lights now, dim against the encroaching twilight outside. Snow drifted lazily past the tall glass windows.
Inside? It was heat, voices, laughter, and that familiar tension that wrapped around his chest like a too-tight seatbelt.
He watched Sophia’s face on screen as she shifted again, clutching a mug too close to her face. The mug said be kind to yourself, but the expression behind it? Calculated. Cold. Perfectly framed for sympathy. That same expression she used to flash at him after every gaslight, every guilt trip, every betrayal wrapped in an apology.
Vivian glanced at Allen, then at the stream. “She still following you with alt accounts?”
“Maybe,” Allen muttered. “Maybe not. Don’t care.”
He did care. Just not the way he used to.
Shea raised a brow. “You sure? Because if she tries to snake into your DMs, I swear to god—”
“Don’t.” Allen’s voice was calm. Too calm.
The girls went quiet.
Then Jane whispered, “We won’t let her touch you again.”
That hit harder than it should’ve.
He exhaled, rubbing his eyes. “I know.”
Vivian leaned forward, her gaze sharp but gentle. “You’re not the same guy she broke.”
“No,” Allen said. “I’m the guy who survived it.”
Bella lifted her phone and snapped a blurry photo of Sophia mid-sniffle. “Okay but real question… should I meme this?”
“Yes,” everyone replied in chaotic unison—except Allen and Azura.
Azura still held his hand. He squeezed back.
The stream continued, Sophia now dabbing at invisible tears while playing sad piano music in the background. The comments didn’t slow.
Allen just stared at the screen for a second longer, then stood up slowly. The movement quieted the room again.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I need some air.”
He wasn’t angry.
Just… full.
Of things he hadn’t said. Things he used to say. Things he never would again.
Larissa rose with him. “Want company?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
The others had already settled around the table again, picking at leftovers and throwing occasional glances his way.
But Allen?
He stood at the sliding glass door, hand braced against the frame, staring out at the dusk-coated mountain trees and the quiet road beyond.
He said, “I just need to calm myself… and hide my embarrassment.”
Because seriously.
How could he ever fall for that?
He didn’t say her name. Didn’t need to. The girls knew.
Shea leaned back in her seat, her voice curious, “She did that in the past?”
Allen gave a quiet laugh—dry, bitter, but not venomous. Just… tired. “Yeah. For a different reason though. Still—” He clenched his jaw. “It’s embarrassing I could fall for such a low trick.”
Bella raised an eyebrow, stretching her legs out under the table. “Well, love is blind, babe.”
Allen scoffed. “And simp is stupid.”
The smirk that curled his lips after didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t want it to.
He pushed the door open and stepped outside.
Fresh mountain air hit him like a soft slap—cold and real. Pine. Distant fire smoke. The echo of some cicada or whatever night bug buzzed lazily through the trees. It was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
He hadn’t even finished his plate, but food wasn’t the issue. Wasn’t rage either. Or bitterness.
It was the embarrassment.
Pure, undiluted, hot-red shame that made his skin itch. That made his face burn even though no one was calling him out. That made him want to rewind time and slap himself. Hard.
He muttered under his breath, “Ah… dammit.”
He leaned against the wooden railing of the villa porch, staring at the gravel path winding into the woods. His hand clenched and unclenched.
Because yeah—he could remember it too clearly.
How he used to look at her.
How he’d drop everything the moment she blinked his way.
How he let her twist his words, shape his actions, gaslight him into apologizing for things he never did.
All because he wanted to be loved.
No—craved it. Like a starving man crawling toward a poisoned river just to taste something sweet. And he drank deep. He believed. He bent.
He even fought people for her. Lied for her.
Allen pressed the heel of his palm against his temple, trying to rub the memory away.
The worst part?
He wasn’t even angry at her anymore.
Just… humiliated at himself.
At that kid version of him. That boy who thought being useful and loyal meant he’d be cherished. That maybe, if he was just enough, someone would finally stay.
He took a breath. The air felt colder now.
“Maybe it wasn’t just her,” he mumbled. “Maybe it was… me.”
He stared out at the horizon. Orange and purple bleeding into blue. The sky didn’t judge.
Maybe that’s why he was here. Because the mountains didn’t talk back. The wind didn’t say I told you so. The sky didn’t screenshot your old texts and mock your past.
Still.
He wanted to yell.
Like a primal roar. Just to release it. Shake it off. Throw it into the woods and let the wolves eat it.
Behind him, the door creaked.
Footsteps.
Soft ones. Barefoot on wood.
But he already knew.
Jane.