Avoidance Isn't Peace
The following days were suffocating.
Not because anything bad had happened—but because nothing did.
No fights. No dramatic goodbyes. No arguments. Just... silence.
But this time, it was from her.
Kate stared at her phone screen again, as if willing her brain to care enough to reply.
One unread message from Frooze glowed on top:
Frooze: "Good morning, baby. Hope your shift isn't too draining today. Miss you."
It should've made her blush. Laugh. Feel something. It used to.
But now? Her chest just tightened instead.
Like something was pressing against it. Like her lungs forgot how to breathe.
She didn't know what was wrong with her.
Scratch that. She did.
She was scared.
And she hated it. Hated the uncertainty. Hated how quickly he became a part of her days. Hated how one simple message could undo the careful balance she was trying so hard to maintain.
What if she wasn't the only one?
What if she was just… entertaining to him? A cute distraction. A fling that lingered longer than expected. A little post-hookup curiosity. A novelty.
A passing mood. A pretty face with soft eyes he liked to tease.
What if she was more invested than he ever intended to be?
She didn't want to be just that.
But she didn't want to ask, either.
Because if she asked, and he told her that's all she was?
She didn't think she'd recover from that.
So instead of confronting him, she built distance.
At first, she convinced herself it was just one late reply. No big deal. She was on duty.
She was tired. He'd understand. He'd be fine.
Then came the second late reply. Then the third.
Soon, she was leaving him on "seen."
Then came shorter responses. One-word answers. Dry. Uninterested. Empty.
She muted the chat. She turned off message notifications.
Not because she didn't care.
But because she cared too much.
She told herself it was healthier this way. Safer.
Because if she let herself fall any deeper, she might not get out. And she wasn't ready for that again—not after her last heartbreak. Not when she was still picking up the pieces of her own reflection from a love that broke her.
She had just started to feel whole again.
She wasn't ready to fall for someone who might disappear when things got real.
Because real was heavy.
And Frooze? Frooze felt real.
She stared at the latest message, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
"Good morning, baby."
That word again.
Baby.
It used to make her stomach flip. Now it just made her feel exposed. Seen.
And not in the comforting way.
It was a spotlight she wasn't ready for.
A ping came.
Frooze: "You've been quiet lately. Everything okay?"
She didn't reply.
She didn't even open the message.
She pressed her lips together, locked her phone, and tossed it on the bed like it had burned her.
Instead, she reached for her review notes and buried herself in pharmacology.
Beta-blockers. Calcium channel blockers. Antihypertensives.
Anything to block out the ache in her chest.
Anything but him.
She didn't open Messenger that whole night.
Didn't check if he was online. Didn't check if he sent another message.
She told herself it was okay. He'd stop eventually. He'd get tired. He'd move on.
She was doing the right thing. She was protecting herself.
Right?
But deep down, in the quiet of her room, in the ache that never quite dulled—
It didn't feel like protection.
It felt like running.
And worse?
It felt like losing something before she even had the chance to name it.
---
By the third day of her silent treatment, Kate couldn't stop checking if he was online.
She would open the app, scroll to his name, and there it was—the green dot. Mocking her. Reminding her he was still there. Still waiting, maybe.
Then she'd lock her phone again in a flash, like she'd been caught doing somethingwrong.
Like just seeing him active was too much.
Too close.
Still, she wanted him to message.
Still waited for another "baby."
Still hoped for one last "How's your day, sleepyhead?" voice note.
Still wondered if he noticed the way she was pulling away.
And yet... she said nothing.
Not even to Riz.
Which was weird. Because Riz was her person. Her emergency contact, her moral compass, her emotional sponge. But lately, Kate had just gone... silent. Too wrapped up in the storm inside her head.
Riz had noticed.
Best friends always knew.
They were sitting side by side at the campus canteen that afternoon, trays in front of them, food barely touched. The buzz of chatter surrounded them—students coming and going, laughter echoing off the walls—but around their table, there was only silence.
Kate had been poking her chicken sandwich for the last ten minutes like it personally offended her.
Riz sipped her iced tea loudly. Squinted at her.
"I thought you were always on your phone because of someone," she said casually, her tone laced with curiosity.
Kate didn't look up. Just shrugged. "Was."
Riz blinked. "Was? Past tense?"
Kate nodded, eyes fixed on the now-mangled lettuce on her plate.
"What happened?"
"Nothing," Kate muttered too quickly.
Riz raised a perfectly shaped brow, unimpressed. "Nothing's worse than something. Spill."
Still, Kate didn't say a word. She pulled her drink closer, took a small sip, then continued attacking her sandwich like it might offer her clarity.
Riz leaned in, elbows on the table now. "Kate. You've ghosted my rants about that hot prof for three days. Something's up."
Kate inhaled through her nose, jaw tight. "I'm just tired."
"Tired of what?"
Kate finally looked at her.
And for a second, Riz saw it—just a flicker of vulnerability behind her friend's tired eyes.
Of course Riz had noticed the shift.
How Kate, the girl who once blushed whenever a simple "good morning, baby" from Frooze lit up her screen, suddenly couldn't bear to mention his name.
How her replies had gone from full paragraphs to dry emojis.
Riz softened. "Is it him?"
Kate looked down again.
Silence stretched between them.
Riz sighed. "He didn't do anything bad, did he? Like... red flag bad?"
Kate shook her head immediately. "No. He's been... nothing but kind. Consistent."
"Then what is it?" Riz asked, genuinely confused now. "You like him. He clearly likes you. What's the issue?"
Kate swallowed hard. She felt her chest tighten, her fingers curling around the edge of the table.
"I don't know," she finally said, voice quiet. "Di ko alam."
Riz sat back, letting the weight of Kate's answer hang in the air.
But Kate wasn't done.
"Every time he says something sweet, I freeze," she admitted, barely above a whisper.
"Every time he texts first, I panic. When he calls me baby... it's like I want to hide."
Riz was quiet, giving her space.
Kate's voice wavered. "I keep thinking, what if this is real? What if he's serious? What if I mess it all up?"
Riz finally reached over and gently touched her arm. "You're not messing it up. You're just scared."
Kate nodded, her voice breaking. "Exactly. And I don't know what I'm more scared of..."
She looked up, eyes glistening slightly. "That he doesn't actually feel the same way."
Riz watched her carefully.
"Or that he does," Kate whispered.
And just like that, the truth cracked out of her—raw, terrifying, and real.
Because love wasn't something she was used to trusting. Not when her guard was so used to being up.
Not when she had trained herself to expect endings before beginnings could take root.
She looked away again, brushing off invisible crumbs from her lap. "It's easier to ghost him than wait for the moment he ghosts me."
Riz's eyes softened. "But what if he's not planning to?"
Kate exhaled shakily. "Then I guess I'm the coward."
Riz gave her a small, knowing smile. "Maybe. Or maybe you just care a little too much."
And for the first time in days, Kate didn't feel like she was drowning in silence alone.
Because the truth was, she didn't know what scared her more—
The thought of Frooze not feeling the same way.
Or the terrifying chance that he actually did.
---
By Friday night... no... it was already Saturday. Time? 2 a.m.
Kate lay on her bed, the room lit only by the faint glow of her night lamp. She hugged her pillow tight to her chest, as if it could replace the presence of the man she missed but had been avoiding like a ghost.
She missed his voice. His annoying dad jokes. His memes. The way he'd send "You up?" even though she told him she was studying. The way he called her baby and made it sound like it belonged only to her.
She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath.
She hated this. This confusion. This silence. This emptiness that she created but didn't expect would feel so cold.
But asking him what they were? It would mean facing answers. And answers were terrifying.
So she told herself again—like a mantra—this was safer. This was better.
Until her phone buzzed one more time.
Frooze: "Kate… If you don't want to talk anymore, just tell me. Please. Don't leave me hanging like this."
She stared at the message, tears blurring her vision. Then locked the screen.
And cried.
The silent kind. No sobs. No gasps. Just quiet tears slipping down her cheeks as she stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling like waves fighting not to crash.
Her pillow was damp. Her phone felt heavy even when it was turned off.
She had chosen this.
She created the distance. She had pushed him away.
And yet… it felt like she was the one left behind.
Then— A knock.
Sharp. Echoing.
Kate jolted.
She blinked and sat up, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Who would visit this late?
Another knock. Louder. Firmer.
She stumbled to her feet, grabbing her robe and pulling it over her shirt and shorts. Her heart pounded in her chest.
"Huh? Anong oras na ahhh," she muttered, still sniffing. "Baka kapitbahay? May sunog na naman ba?"
She twisted the lock and opened the door slowly.
And froze.
It wasn't her landlord.
It was Frooze.
He stood there, jaw clenched, wearing a black hoodie and dark joggers. His hair was tousled like he had driven fast, hands buried in his pockets. His chest was visibly rising and falling as if he had been holding something in for too long.
His eyes—normally sharp and unreadable—were burning.
He looked like a man with something to say.
But what scared her more was how broken he looked, even while standing there like a storm bottled in human form.
"F-Frooze?" she whispered.
He didn't answer. Didn't move. Didn't blink.
His silence was louder than anything he could've said.
Kate gripped the doorknob tighter, heart hammering.
What was he doing here?