[A/N: I do not own anything. Chapter's short, but more coming up.]
Not for the first time, Peyton Sawyer was heartbroken. The depression and angst she had worked for four years to let go of, had slowly begun to resurface, her emotions meddled with and her numbness renewed. She had experienced something similar only four years ago, in this very town, when her best friend had told her she was slowly falling for Lucas Scott, when Brooke and Lucas had started going steady, and when he had said 'Oh!' to her heartfelt love confession. And it was the same man everytime. Lucas freaking Scott. The blue-eyed playboy, no, casanova, who was so utterly conflicted that he felt whichever woman he was with was definitely 'the one', and he had only been lying to himself before when he had felt other women were 'the one's. Previously, Peyton had prided herself on being able to understand this man, prided herself in thinking that she was the tortured artist to his tortured athlete, and that her and Lucas had True Love Always.
On a good day, even now, she kept believing that. Convincing herself that he'd come back for her. That he loved her as much as she loved him. So, she had returned to Tree Hill, only to find he had moved on with a beautiful, successful, blue-eyed Ivy League graduate, Lindsey Strauss, as opposed to the now-unemployed, never-gone-to-university, LA reject, perpetual failure with chickeny legs that Peyton was. She had been stupid to think he would still yearn for her. Yet, she had fought for him, stupidly attempting to break up what she now knew were two people happily in love, which culminated in her leaving his sorry ass at the altar.
She had behaved in an immature manner, she knew now. Become the worst possible version of herself, and in the process, earned the dislike of said Ivy League graduate, who for god-unknown reasons, had respected her before. And it had taken only three words for her to realise this. Three words that would change her life. Three words that she would have given anything not to hear. Three words that pulled her out of her daze, and forced her to show the world what Peyton Sawyer was, strong, independent artist, not a heartbroken lovesick puppy who couldn't stop herself from poking her nose in other people's business. Three words that had made Peyton find the Peyton whom Lindsey had admired.
"I hate you."
Coming straight from Casanova's mouth, Peyton had been heartbroken. She had fallen to pieces. Then she had had her own moment of clarity. She wasn't going to run after her teenage blue-eyed fantasy, she was going to well and truly, move on. Stop caring about him. She was done. Destroyed, yes, but done.
She looked at herself in the mirror, and she looked different than she remembered. No longer the weak, dependent female LA had made her, but the strong, independent lady she always had been.
She smiled, and went off to make some coffee.