Loving You In Silent

Three days had passed since Jennie and I last crossed paths in the hallway. The icy silence between us still lingered, heavy and suffocating. It had become clear that whatever bond we once shared was hanging by a thread, and I had no idea how to mend it.

That evening, I was lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly through my phone, trying to distract myself from the thoughts that kept circling in my mind. The glow of the screen illuminated the dark room as I switched between apps, not paying attention to anything in particular.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my hand, jolting me from my thoughts. A call. I glanced at the screen, and my breath caught in my throat.

Jennie.

My heart raced, and a nervous ache formed in the pit of my stomach. I hesitated for a moment, my thumb hovering over the screen, before finally swiping to answer.

“Hello?” I said, my voice cautious and shaky.

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and then I heard her.

“Lisa,” Jennie’s voice came through, soft but unmistakable.

I bolted upright, suddenly wide awake. “Jennie?” I asked, trying to keep my tone steady.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice calm but distant. “I… I was wondering if we could meet. I need to talk to you.”

My heart sank and soared at the same time. She wanted to talk, but the way she said it made me nervous.

“Okay,” I replied, barely above a whisper. “Where?”

“Our usual spot,” Jennie said, referring to the little café where we used to spend hours talking and laughing. “Can you come now?”

“Of course,” I said quickly, not wanting to give her any reason to change her mind.

“Okay. See you there,” she said before the line went dead.

I sat on the edge of my bed, clutching my phone tightly. My chest was tight, my mind racing with possibilities. Why did she want to talk? Was this her way of mending things, or was it something else entirely?

---

When I arrived at the café, Jennie was already there, sitting at one of the small tables near the window. She looked better than she had in weeks—her hair neatly styled, her face calm, her posture composed. But there was something in her eyes that felt different, something I couldn’t quite place.

I took a deep breath and walked over, my heart pounding with each step.

“Hey,” I said softly, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Hey,” Jennie replied, her tone neutral.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The hum of the café filled the silence between us, and I found myself fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve. Finally, Jennie spoke.

“Lisa, I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with sadness. “For the way I treated you the other night. I was out of line.”

I shook my head quickly. “No, Jennie, you don’t have to apologize. I understand—”

“No,” she interrupted gently but firmly. “Let me finish.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“I needed time,” she said, her gaze fixed on the table. “When I look at you… it’s hard, Lisa. You remind me of him. You remind me of everything that happened, and it’s not your fault—it’s just how I feel.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut. I clenched my hands in my lap, trying to steady my breathing.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” Jennie continued, her voice softening. “But being around you made everything hurt more. And I needed to figure out how to deal with that.”

“I get it,” I said quietly, though my voice trembled. “Jennie, I’m so sorry for everything—for what my brother did, for being a reminder of it. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know,” she said, finally looking up at me. Her eyes were filled with a sadness that made my chest ache. “And that’s why I wanted to meet you. To tell you that I’m sorry, and to say goodbye.”

My heart stopped.

“Goodbye?” I echoed, my voice barely audible.

Jennie nodded, her expression resolute. “Lisa, I don’t think we can go back to how things were. Too much has happened. I can’t look at you and pretend everything’s fine, and I don’t want to keep hurting you by pushing you away.”

I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. My hands gripped the edge of the table as I struggled to process her words.

“Jennie,” I said, my voice breaking, “you don’t have to do this. We can fix this. I can give you space, or time, or whatever you need—just don’t—”

She shook her head, cutting me off. “Lisa, please. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I fought them back, refusing to cry in front of her. “I care about you, Jennie,” I said, my voice raw. “I care about you so much, and I hate that I couldn’t be what you needed. But please don’t end this.”

Jennie reached across the table, placing her hand over mine. Her touch was warm, but it only made the ache in my chest deepen.

“I care about you too,” she said softly. “That’s why I have to do this. It’s better for both of us.”

I stared at her, searching for something—anything—that would give me hope. But all I saw was a girl who had made up her mind.

“I’m sorry,” Jennie whispered.

And then she stood up, slipping her hand away from mine. She gave me one last, lingering look before turning and walking out of the café.

I sat there, frozen, as the door closed behind her. The hum of the café seemed to fade into the background, leaving me alone with the deafening silence in my mind.

---

When I got home, I went straight to my room, ignoring the concerned look my mom gave me as I walked past her.

I closed the door, dropped my bag on the floor, and sat on the edge of my bed. I felt empty, like a shell of myself.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just sat there, staring at the wall, feeling the weight of everything crash down on me.

Jennie was gone. And this time, there was nothing I could do to bring her back.

I leaned back on my bed, staring at the ceiling as the numbness set in. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel sad or angry. I just felt… nothing.

And somehow, that was the worst feeling of all.