The days blurred into a haze of lectures, whispered gossip, and silence. Silence that weighed heavier than the loudest laughter, heavier even than the cruelest insults.
Ethan hated it.
He had grown used to loneliness before Aria. For years, he had lived in the shadows of Westbridge Academy, invisible, the quiet boy no one noticed until they wanted a target. But now, the silence between him and Aria was different. It wasn't empty — it was suffocating.
And he couldn't take it anymore.
---
It was Wednesday afternoon, just after the final bell. The classroom emptied quickly, students eager to rush to dinner or the dorms. Ethan lingered, pretending to arrange his books while his heart hammered in his chest. Aria was still there, sliding her notes into her bag with careful precision, as though even packing her belongings had to be perfectly in order.
This was it. No crowd, no interruptions. Just the two of them.
Ethan inhaled deeply. You can do this.
"Aria," he said, his voice soft but steady.
She froze for a fraction of a second, her back stiffening. But then she continued packing, her head bowed.
"Aria, please. We need to talk."
Her movements grew sharper, her fingers fumbling with the zipper of her bag. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Yes, there is," Ethan pressed, his voice rising slightly. His hands trembled against his desk. "You— you said no, but I know you didn't mean it. I saw it in your eyes. So why—"
"Ethan."
Finally, she turned. Her eyes met his for the first time in days, and the weight in them nearly knocked the air out of him. They weren't cold, like he feared. They weren't mocking, like the others. They were… tired. Wounded. Afraid.
"Please don't make this harder than it already is," she whispered.
Ethan's chest tightened. He wanted to demand an explanation, but her voice cracked on the last word, and it stopped him cold.
Before he could recover, she slung her bag over her shoulder and slipped past him, brushing lightly against his arm as she hurried out of the room.
---
That night, Ethan sat in the study hall, his notebook open but untouched. Around him, the hum of other students filled the air — pens scratching against paper, chairs scraping, whispers echoing. But Ethan couldn't focus.
Her words haunted him. Harder than it already is.
What did that mean? What was she hiding from him?
The more he thought about it, the more restless he became. Finally, unable to sit still, he closed his notebook and slipped out of the hall.
He found himself wandering through the dimly lit corridors of the dormitory wing. His footsteps echoed against the stone floor as he passed door after door. He didn't know what he was doing, not really. He just knew that somewhere behind one of these walls, Aria was sitting alone — avoiding him, avoiding them — and it drove him mad.
He stopped outside the girls' dormitory entrance, the heavy wooden door shut firmly with the brass lock glinting in the lantern light. Of course, he couldn't go in. He wasn't stupid. But he lingered anyway, his hand brushing against the wall, his chest heavy.
"Why, Aria?" he whispered into the quiet.
---
The weekend came, and Westbridge Academy's traditions pressed on. Saturday morning brought the usual courtyard bustle, students chatting, some tossing footballs, others sprawled under the old oak tree with novels or music players.
Ethan spotted Aria across the courtyard, sitting with her friends. She laughed at something one of them said, but even from a distance, Ethan could see the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
Summoning every ounce of courage, he stood and began walking toward her. His palms were sweaty, his heartbeat thunderous, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
As he drew closer, her friends noticed him first. They exchanged knowing looks, whispering to each other. One even smirked. Aria, sensing the shift, turned her head — and her laughter died instantly.
Her eyes locked on his, and for a moment, the courtyard seemed to fade.
"Aria," Ethan said, stopping just a few feet away. His voice was steadier this time, more determined. "Please… talk to me."
Her friends exchanged amused glances, one of them nudging her. But Aria stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the stone.
"I have to go," she said quickly, her voice strained.
She hurried off, her friends calling after her, half laughing, half confused. Ethan followed without hesitation, weaving through the courtyard as whispers rose behind them.
"Aria! Wait!"
She didn't stop. She crossed the lawn, her shoes crunching against the gravel path that led toward the library. Ethan's legs burned, but he pushed himself faster until he finally caught up, grabbing her wrist gently.
"Please," he begged, his voice cracking. "Don't run from me anymore."
Aria froze, her back to him, her wrist trembling under his touch. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, she pulled her hand free, her movements delicate but firm.
"Ethan," she whispered, her voice breaking, "you don't understand. You can't understand."
"Then make me understand," he pleaded. "I know you care about me. I know it. So why are you doing this? Why are you pretending—"
Her shoulders shook. For a second, Ethan thought she might finally turn, finally spill the truth that weighed so heavily between them. But instead, she shook her head violently, her hair whipping around her face.
"I can't," she said, almost too quietly to hear. "Please… just leave me alone."
And before Ethan could stop her, she bolted again — this time into the library, vanishing between the tall shelves of books.
---
Ethan stood outside the doors, his chest heaving, his hands clenched into fists.
He couldn't go after her. Not here. Not when the librarian would throw him out for causing a scene.
But the way her voice had cracked, the way her shoulders had trembled — he knew she was hiding something. Something painful. Something big.
And as much as it tore him apart, he realized he might not get the answers now.
Not yet.