Chapter 6
Days blurred into weeks, a slow and agonizing drift where everything remained the same—except for everything that had changed.
Neither of them addressed it. Neither of them dared to.
They still walked to school together. Still sat next to each other in class. Still had lunch with their friends, who never seemed to notice the careful distance between them, the way they no longer leaned into each other’s space the way they used to.
Their routine persisted, but the warmth in it had cooled into something restrained, something brittle.
Aurelle felt it in every moment Solenne wasn’t looking at her.
Solenne felt it in every moment Aurelle hesitated to speak.
Yet neither of them spoke of it.
Aurelle told herself nothing had changed.
She still woke up every morning and walked the familiar path to Solenne’s house, hands shoved in her pockets, feet carrying her forward out of habit. She still waited at the same spot, still watched the front door open, still greeted Solenne with the same quiet “Morning.”
And yet—
The silence between them wasn’t the same.
It wasn’t the comfortable quiet they used to share, the kind that spoke volumes without words. Now, it was empty, filled with all the things she couldn’t bring herself to say.
She kept telling herself she was fine with it. That she didn’t need to acknowledge the way her heart ached in her chest every time Solenne glanced away too quickly, every time their hands almost brushed but never did.
But it haunted her.
She found herself thinking about it at the oddest moments—when the wind was cool against her skin, when the light through the classroom window caught in Solenne’s hair just right, when Solenne laughed at something their friends said, and Aurelle felt the sound settle into her bones like a song she didn’t know the words to.
It was terrifying.
Because she had fallen—deeply, completely, irrevocably fallen.
And she didn’t know how to stop.
Solenne wasn’t used to running away from things.
She had always been the type to face things head-on, to push forward without hesitation.
But this—this was different.
She couldn’t look at Aurelle without feeling like she was standing at the edge of something huge and terrifying.
Because somewhere along the way, Aurelle had become the moon.
Silent, unwavering, always there. A steady presence in her life, her constant. And much like the moon, Aurelle pulled at her in ways she couldn’t explain, ways she didn’t know how to fight.
So she didn’t fight it. She just—ignored it.
She avoided looking too long. Avoided lingering in moments that felt too much. Avoided thinking about the way Aurelle’s voice had started feeling like home.
But the thing about running away from something that lived inside of you—
Was that you could never truly escape.
-
Morning arrived with the weight of something unspoken, something they refused to acknowledge.
The sky was overcast, gray clouds stretching endlessly above, as if mirroring the heavy fog settling between Aurelle and Solenne. It wasn’t raining, but the air carried a quiet, expectant stillness—like the world was holding its breath.
Aurelle’s footsteps echoed softly against the pavement as she made her way to Solenne’s house. Her hands were stuffed deep in her jacket pockets, her gaze trained ahead, but unfocused.
The street was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hum of a car passing by. It was familiar. This was their routine. It had always been their routine. Yet somehow, in some way, everything felt different.
She had done this every morning—walked this same road, passed these same houses, counted the same cracks on the sidewalk.
But something about today felt… heavier.
She didn’t know why.
Or rather—she refused to acknowledge why.
Aurelle shifted on her feet, exhaling softly as she glanced at the door. A few months ago, she would have knocked without thinking, called out Solenne’s name with an easy smile, maybe teased her for taking too long to get ready. But now, hesitation clung to her bones. The weight of something unspoken hung between them, stretching across the days and weaving itself into the silence that had settled where laughter used to be.
She just needed to act normal.
She just needed to pretend that nothing was different.
That nothing had changed.
That she didn’t spend her weekend thinking about Solenne more than she should have.
That she didn’t catch herself rereading their old texts, lingering on the way Solenne’s words always carried that easy, teasing lilt, or how she had been the only person who could make Aurelle laugh even when she didn’t want to.
That she didn’t trace the bracelet on her wrist absentmindedly, thinking about the way Solenne had smiled when she gave it to her.
Aurelle sighed, running a hand through her hair.
She just needed to keep things the way they were.
She wasn’t avoiding anything. She was just… keeping her head down.
She wasn’t going to let some stupid feelings mess up everything they had.
She exhaled slowly, straightened her posture, and knocked.
-
Solenne sat on the edge of her bed, tying the laces of her shoes with deliberate slowness. The golden light of morning slipped through her curtains, painting soft patterns against her walls. The room was filled with the faint scent of coffee lingering from the kitchen, but she wasn’t moving.
Aurelle would be outside any minute now.
She should hurry up.
She should stand up, grab her bag, and go.
But her hands hesitated.
Not for any particular reason.
Definitely not because she had spent the past few weeks trying not to think about the way Aurelle had looked under the streetlights, her dark hair catching the silver glow of the moon, her quiet presence steady and unwavering.
Definitely not because she had felt something strange and terrifying settle in her chest, something she had spent all weekend pushing down.
Definitely not because she had caught herself lying in bed staring at the bracelet on her wrist, her fingers tracing the pattern like it held an answer she couldn’t find.
Solenne shook her head, forcing a breath out through her nose.
She was being ridiculous.
Nothing was different.
She wasn’t avoiding anything. She was just… overthinking.
Maybe she was just tired.
Yeah. That was all.
With a sigh, she finally stood up, smoothing down her uniform before grabbing her bag. By the time she opens the door, she would be slipping into routine, already pushing away thoughts that she refused to name.
She wasn’t avoiding anything.
She just needed to act normal.
When she opened the door, Aurelle was there, just as she always was. Standing on the porch, hands in her pockets, the morning breeze tousling strands of her dark hair. There was a time when Solenne would have greeted her with a teasing remark, maybe nudged her shoulder as they started walking. But now, the words caught in her throat, the movement stilled in her limbs.
“Morning,” Solenne said, voice soft, almost careful.
Aurelle swallowed, nodding. “Morning.”
That was it. No teasing remark, no playful shove, no easy familiarity. Just a greeting, stripped down to its barest form. They started walking, side by side, their steps falling into rhythm like muscle memory. The world around them moved as it always did—birds flitting from power lines, the faint chatter of neighbors, the breeze stirring the scent of damp earth—but between them, there was nothing but silence.
Aurelle had never minded beforsilence. With Solenne, it had always been a comfortable thing, a space where words didn’t need to exist to be understood. But this was different. This was a silence with edges, sharp enough to cut.
Solenne’s fingers curled around the strap of her bag, knuckles white. It was funny, in a way. She had always been good with words, always known how to navigate conversations with ease. But when it came to this—when it came to Aurelle—she felt like she was treading unknown waters, unsure of where to step, terrified of falling too deep.
Aurelle stole a glance at Solenne from the corner of her eye, searching for something—anything—that would tell her what to say, how to fix whatever this was. But Solenne’s expression was unreadable, gaze fixed ahead, hands gripping the straps of her bag a little too tightly. It was a far cry from the Solenne she knew—the one who used to roll her eyes at early mornings but still greet Aurelle with a smirk, the one who would nudge their shoulders together just because, the one who always seemed to exist so effortlessly beside her.
It had been weeks now—weeks of these silences, of spaces widening between them, of something fragile teetering on the edge. And still, their friends hadn't noticed. The teasing hadn’t stopped, their routines hadn’t changed. To everyone else, nothing had changed. Maybe because they still walked together every morning, still sat beside each other in class, still occupied the same space. Maybe because they both played their roles well, pretending the distance didn’t suffocate them both.
Was this what it meant to lose something before you even had the chance to hold it?
-
The café was the same as it had always been—warm light spilling from the hanging bulbs, the quiet hum of conversations blending with the distant hiss of the coffee machine. The scent of freshly baked bread curled in the air, mingling with the faint bitterness of espresso, wrapping around them like something familiar, something safe.
Aurelle sat in her usual spot, back straight, hands wrapped around the ceramic mug of her coffee. The warmth seeped into her fingers, grounding her. Across from her, Solenne was stirring her tea, the spoon clinking softly against the porcelain. Neither of them had spoken much since ordering.
This was normal.
This was their routine.
And yet—
Aurelle could feel it. The distance. The weight of something unspoken pressing between them, stretching the silence taut like a thread about to snap.
She kept her eyes trained on her coffee, refusing to look up, refusing to acknowledge the way her chest felt tighter than usual.
This was fine.
Everything was fine.
She had spent the past few days convincing herself of that.
And if she just stuck to their routine—if she just acted normal—maybe she could pretend she didn’t notice the way Solenne’s fingers hesitated over the rim of her cup, or how her gaze lingered a second too long before flickering away.
Aurelle took a slow sip of her coffee, willing her mind to quiet.
It was just a phase.
It would pass.
She just had to wait.
-
Solenne wasn’t sure why the silence felt different.
It wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t heavy.
But it was something.
Something that curled around the edges of her thoughts, something that made her notice of every movement Aurelle made. The way her fingers drummed lightly against the table, the way she kept glancing at her coffee as if it held an answer to a question neither of them were asking.
This was ridiculous.
She was being ridiculous.
And yet—
Her grip tightened around her spoon.
She had spent the past weeks convincing herself that nothing had changed, that the strange, unfamiliar feeling in her chest was just a passing thought, a fleeting moment.
She had told herself that she wasn’t avoiding anything.
And maybe she could have believed it—
If not for the way her eyes kept drifting to Aurelle’s wrist.
The bracelet was still there.
A simple thing, woven threads of golden hue, snug against Aurelle’s skin.
Solenne had given it to her without much thought that day.
Or at least, she had told herself that.
But now—now she couldn’t stop looking at it.
Couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Couldn’t stop the warmth that pooled in her stomach, slow and insidious, when she realized Aurelle hadn’t taken it off.
She tore her gaze away, staring down at her tea, as if it could drown out the rush of emotions she wasn’t ready to name.
This was fine.
This was normal.
If she just kept telling herself that, maybe she’d believe it.
Maybe.
-
The walk back to school from the café was usually effortless, filled with quiet chatter or easy silence. But today, it felt different. It felt like something was unraveling, like the rhythm of their steps wasn’t quite in sync the way it used to be.
Aurelle wasn’t sure when she had started overthinking every little thing.
Where to place her hands.
Where to look when Solenne spoke.
How to breathe without feeling like she was making it obvious.
She didn’t understand why it felt so hard to be normal.
Solenne walked beside her, eyes fixed ahead, her expression unreadable. Usually, she would have been the one to fill the silence, nudging Aurelle with some teasing remark or casually brushing their arms together like it meant nothing.
But today, there was space between them.
Not physically—Aurelle was still walking close enough to shield Solenne from the street, her body naturally positioning itself between her and the road, just like always.
But emotionally—
There was a gap neither of them dared to acknowledge.
She caught herself glancing at Solenne from the corner of her eye, only to snap her gaze forward the moment she realized what she was doing.
She needed to stop.
She needed to stop feeling like this.
She needed to stop thinking about the way Solenne’s fingers had hesitated over her cup earlier, or the way her lashes had lowered when she stared at her tea, like she was lost in thought.
But how was she supposed to stop something she couldn’t even name?
-
The morning sunlight filtered through the classroom windows, casting soft, golden slants across the desks. The familiar hum of students settling into their seats filled the air—bags unzipping, books flipping open, low murmurs of conversation weaving together like background noise. Yet for Aurelle and Solenne, the world felt quieter.
They sat beside each other, just as they always had. It had been that way for years—two names called one after the other during roll call, two chairs aligned side by side. The routine was ingrained, one of the things that are constant in their moving world. And yet, nothing’s the same anymore.
Aurelle kept her eyes on her notebook, fingers gripping her pen too tightly. She could feel Solenne's presence beside her, as tangible as the desk beneath her hands, as unavoidable as the air she breathed. There was a time when she would lean over to nudge Solenne’s shoulder, whisper something ridiculous to make her stifle a laugh. A time when Solenne would elbow her back and smirk, eyes glinting with unspoken mischief.
That time felt so far away now.
Solenne was equally restless, her fingers tapping absently against the desk’s surface, her mind caught in the chasm between how things were and how they had become. She glanced at Aurelle out of habit, expecting—hoping—for her to meet her gaze, for the weight in her chest to lessen. But Aurelle was staring ahead, her expression unreadable. Solenne swallowed and turned away, pressing her lips into a thin line.
Class began, and the teacher’s voice filled the silence between them, yet neither of them truly heard it. Their notes were taken on autopilot, their gazes occasionally flitting toward one another, only to dart away before they could be caught. Aurelle could feel Solenne shifting beside her, a small movement, but enough to send her pulse skittering. It was strange, this hyperawareness—this knowing that Solenne was right there and yet feeling so impossibly distant.
When the teacher called for a partner discussion, the tension grew heavier. Before, neither of them would have hesitated. Now, there was a pause—barely a second, but noticeable enough that Aurelle clenched her jaw.
“So… you want to just—” Aurelle started, her voice quieter than she intended.
“Yeah,” Solenne cut in, too quickly.
They turned to face each other, books open, pens poised, but neither spoke at first. Solenne fidgeted with the corner of the page. Aurelle pretended to be deeply engrossed in the text in front of her. It was unbearable, this dance around the growing space between them, this careful avoidance of something neither of them could name.
Their friends, oblivious to the tension, chattered freely around them. Carson leaned over from the desk behind them, nudging Solenne’s shoulder. “You two look miserable. Long night or just sick of each other?”
Solenne forced a chuckle, shaking her head. “Something like that.”
Aurelle glanced up at Solenne then, and for a fraction of a second, she saw something flicker across her face—something raw, something hesitant. It disappeared just as quickly.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of shared spaces and unspoken words. Lunchtime was spent with their usual group, where their friends stole bites of each other’s food and made playful jabs about couple antics. Aurelle and Solenne, once an effortless part of the banter, found themselves on the sidelines, too wrapped in their own tangled thoughts to join in.
In the afternoon, another class, another moment where their arms almost brushed as they reached for their notebooks at the same time. Another fleeting glance, another missed opportunity to bridge the growing gap.
Neither of them spoke, both caught in a silent, unasked question.
How long could they keep pretending nothing had changed?
-
The final bell rang, signaling the end of another school day, but the weight pressing against Solenne’s chest did not lift. The routine was the same—packing up her books, brushing past Aurelle as they moved in tandem, their desks so close yet the distance between them immeasurable. The air around them crackled with the things unsaid, stretching between them like an invisible thread pulling, threatening to snap.
She felt the silence creeping in again, the same suffocating quietness that had made their morning walk unbearable. Every step beside Aurelle had been a battle against the urge to break it, to say something—anything—to fill the void between them. But the words never came. Not when Aurelle looked at her with those unreadable eyes, not when their fingers brushed accidentally over a shared textbook, not when the world around them moved forward while they remained frozen in this unspoken limbo.
Solenne felt it creeping in again as they left the classroom, that unbearable hush wrapping around her like ivy, tangling in her ribs, making it hard to breathe. Her pulse quickened, and before she even realized what she was saying, the words left her lips.
"I have to go to the bathroom. I'll catch up."
Before Aurelle could even react, she practically sprinted into the nearest restroom, her hands gripping the cold porcelain sink as she exhaled shakily. She wasn’t here because she needed to be—she was here because she needed a moment. Just a moment. An escape from Aurelle’s presence that both comforted and suffocated her at once.
She turned on the faucet, letting the water run as she stared at herself in the mirror. The fluorescent lights above buzzed softly, casting harsh reflections over her tired eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. She had never been afraid of silence before. With Aurelle, it used to be different—it used to be warm, full of unspoken understanding.
Her fingers curled against the edge of the sink. How had it come to this? When had the familiar become foreign? When had Aurelle’s presence, once a source of quiet solace, become something that left her breathless for all the wrong reasons?
She didn’t know how long she stood there, trying to slow her racing thoughts, trying to convince herself that she could step back into that hallway and endure another silent walk home without breaking. But even as she took another deep breath, she knew—
She wasn’t ready.
As Solenne stepped out of the bathroom, her pulse still uneven, as if the walls she had built to contain the storm inside her were starting to crack. She exhaled slowly, smoothing down her skirt as she forced herself to appear composed. Just a little longer. She could make it through just a little longer.
As she made her way down the quiet hallway, a voice called out to her, slicing through her thoughts like a sharp gust of wind.
"Hey, Solenne! Wait up!"
She turned to see a classmate jogging up to her, a boy from a class beside theirs. He looked slightly disheveled, gripping a notebook tightly in one hand. His eyes were pleading before he even spoke. "You’re good at physics, right? I’m completely lost on this assignment. Think you could help me out? I swear I’ll owe you one."
Solenne barely registered his words at first. Her mind was still reeling, trying to pull itself back from the abyss of her own thoughts. Then, suddenly, the answer became clear. This was an out—a perfect, undeniable excuse. A lifeline she didn’t know she needed until now.
She hesitated, but only for a moment. "I guess I could," she said, her voice measured, betraying none of the relief curling in her chest. "What do you need help with?"
His face lit up in gratitude, a stark contrast to the turmoil still brewing inside her. "Really? You’re a lifesaver. Actually, do you mind if we go over it on the way? I can walk you home—consider it payment for your help."
The words struck a nerve, lodging themselves somewhere deep inside her. A walk home. But not with Aurelle.
Her fingers curled slightly as she glanced down the empty hallway—the one she should have been walking down in silence, side by side with the one person who had always been there. The thought twisted something inside her. Was this wrong? Was it cruel? To seek escape, even just for one day?
But the memory of their recent walks surfaced —the quietness too sharp, the unspoken words pressing against the fragile space between them like an impending storm. And Aurelle... Aurelle had been distant, too. Maybe she wouldn’t even mind. Maybe she’d be relieved.
She forced a small smile. "That works."
As they walked, she pulled out her phone, the dim glow of the screen making her hesitation all the more visible. The weight of the message she was about to send felt heavier than it should have, like an anchor she wasn’t sure she wanted to let go of. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should she tell Aurelle the truth? That she just didn’t think she could handle it today? That it felt like every step they took together was another step toward something she wasn’t ready to face?
No. That would open doors she wasn’t ready to walk through.
Instead, she typed, Hey, I’m helping someone with assignments, so I’ll head home a little later today. Don’t wait up.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second before hitting send. And just like that, she let the silence between them stretch a little further, fearing—perhaps knowing—that one day, they might not be able to close it again.
-
Aurelle stood outside their classroom, leaning against the cool metal frame of the door, her bag slung loosely over her shoulder. The hallway had mostly emptied out, leaving only a few lingering students chatting in hushed voices, their laughter distant and muffled. The air felt still, as if the school itself was holding its breath, waiting.
She glanced at the clock. Solenne was taking longer than usual.
Aurelle exhaled slowly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She already knew how their walk home would go. The silence had stretched between them for weeks now, tensed and fragile like a thread threatening to snap. It wasn’t always this way. There was a time when their routine had been filled with effortless conversation, where laughter bounced off the pavement, and their footsteps fell in sync without thought. But lately, that rhythm had faltered. They still walked together, but it felt like walking beside a stranger wearing Solenne’s face.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag as she pushed the thought away. Maybe today would be different. Maybe Solenne would finally say something—anything—that would make the distance between them feel smaller. Or maybe Aurelle would find the courage to ask. To stop pretending that she wasn’t terrified of what their silence meant.Maybe—
Her phone buzzed.
Aurelle pulled it out, her heartbeat picking up slightly at Solenne’s name lighting up the screen. A message. But the moment her eyes landed on the message, something sharp and unexpected twisted in her chest.
Hey, I’m helping someone with assignments, so I’ll head home a little later today. Don’t wait up.
Her breath caught, fingers hovering over the screen. It was a simple message. Plain. Straightforward. And yet, it took her a moment too long to process it.
Aurelle blinked. The hallway around her suddenly felt too empty, too heavy.
Don’t wait up.
Aurelle hesitated, staring at the text for a second longer than necessary. The words were simple, almost normal. It would be easy to pretend nothing had changed, to brush aside the way their dynamic had been shifting beneath their feet like unsteady ground. She could wait. She always did.
But even with hesitation clawing at her ribs, she typed out a response.
It’s okay. I don't mind waiting
She sent it before she could overthink it, before she could give herself another excuse to keep pretending that things weren’t slipping through her fingers.
A minute later, another message arrived.
No need. Someone will be walking me home.
Something cold and unfamiliar settled in Aurelle’s stomach.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, rereading the words again and again, as if they would change under her gaze. She had expected the usual, maybe even a half-hearted excuse. But this—this was different. This was final in a way that left her breathless.
Someone else.
Aurelle’s chest tightened. There was no reason to be upset. No reason for the sharp pang of something she refused to acknowledge. But the weight in her chest pressed down like an anchor, heavy and sinking. She had clung to their walks, to the fragile thread still tying them together, even as everything else between them faltered. Solenne had still chosen to walk beside her, despite the silence. Despite everything.
Until today.
She swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat, her grip tightening around her phone. It was just one day. Just one walk. She had no right to feel anything about it.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to type a quick response. Okay. See you tomorrow.
She locked her phone, shoving it into her pocket before she could dwell on the way her fingers trembled. Before she could admit to herself why it hurt. Why it felt like something had finally shattered completely.
She adjusted the strap of her bag, her movements stiff, mechanical, as she pushed herself off the doorframe and stepped forward.
She walked with her head down, her hands buried deep in her pockets as the cold air bit at her skin. Her footsteps echoed lightly against the pavement, filling the silence she hadn’t realized had become so deafening. She just wants to go home, and sleep off anything she was feeling inside. She’s not even in the mood to interact with anyone. But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
“Aurelle!”
She barely had time to brace herself before a pair of arms slung over her shoulder. Carson, grinning as always, fell into step beside her, followed closely by the rest of their group. Jamie, Mitzi and Mavis were whispering to each other, clearly up to no good, while Soleil and Gaia trailed behind, lost in their own world. It was the same sight she’d grown used to, but today, she wasn’t sure if she could keep up the act.
“Are you heading home?” Carson asked, nudging her playfully. “Where’s Solenne? Shouldn’t she be with you?”
Aurelle stiffened. The question shouldn’t have stung, shouldn’t have made something tighten in her chest, but it did. She hadn’t processed just how deeply the absence weighed on her until now, standing in front of her friends with an answer she didn’t want to give.
“She’s busy,” Aurelle replied, the words clipped, sharper than she intended. “She’s with someone.”
There was an edge to her tone, something raw and bitter, something she hadn’t meant to let slip. It felt unnatural on her tongue, foreign and ugly, but it had left her mouth before she could stop it.
The shift in their expressions was immediate. Carson’s teasing grin faltered slightly, Soleil and Gaia stopped their whispered conversation, and even Mitzi, Jamie and Mavis had turned their attention toward her. Silence stretched between them for a moment, thick and charged with something Aurelle didn’t have the energy to decipher.
“…Are you okay?” Mavis asked, a rare note of concern in her voice.
Aurelle inhaled sharply. She had let too much show. The frustration, the hurt, the unspoken weight of it all—her friends could see it now, and she hated that. Hated how easily her emotions had betrayed her. She had spent weeks carefully burying them beneath routine, beneath silence, but now, here they were, laid bare for everyone to see.
“I—” She hesitated. For a moment, she considered telling the truth. Admitting that it did matter, that she did care too much, that the distance between her and Solenne was beginning to feel unbearable.
But instead, she shook her head. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
Mitzi narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. “You sure? ‘Cause you sounded kinda…”
“Jealous.” Jamie finished, her voice laced with amusement. “Like, very jealous.”
Soleil snickered. “Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”
Aurelle’s face heated instantly. “I am not jealous,” she snapped, but the way her voice pitched slightly higher betrayed her.
“Oh, you so are,” Mavis sing-songed. “You should’ve seen your face just now. You looked pissed.”
Aurelle scoffed. “I don’t care what she does. She can do whatever she wants.”
The words tasted like lies, bitter and burning at the back of her throat. But she refused to take them back.
Carson tilted her head, watching her too closely. “You know,” she started, voice almost thoughtful, “it’s funny. You’re always waiting for her, always walking her home. But the second she decides to do something else, you look like someone just ran over your dog.”
Aurelle clenched her jaw. “I don’t.”
“You so do,” Mavis laughed. “God, you’re so obvious. Just admit it already.”
Aurelle exhaled sharply, irritation bubbling under her skin. “I said it’s not like that.” This time, her voice was sharper, harsher than before. The sudden intensity of it caught even her by surprise.
Her friends exchanged glances, the teasing edge softening just a little.
“Alright, relax,” Carson said, holding up her hands. “We were just messing with you.” Then, her gaze turned more careful. “Are you… actually okay?”
Aurelle blinked, suddenly aware of how tense her shoulders had become, how tightly she’d been clenching her fists inside her pockets.
She swallowed hard, forcing her expression into something more neutral. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I’m fine.”
“You know we’re joking, right?”
Aurelle forced a chuckle, but it felt hollow. “Yeah. Joking.”
She knew it was meant to be harmless. She knew they didn’t actually mean anything by it. But still, the words clung to her, sinking deep beneath her skin. Because what if—
What if it wasn’t a joke? What if they saw something in her that she wasn’t ready to face yet?
No one looked entirely convinced, but they let it go, falling back into their usual chatter as they continued walking. But Aurelle could still feel it, the weight of her own words pressing heavily on her chest, suffocating and undeniable.
Because she did care.
And the worst part was, she wasn’t sure what scared her more—her friends realizing it, or herself finally admitting it.
-
Aurelle walked, her steps automatic, her body moving on instinct while her mind waged a silent war. The conversation with her friends still echoed in her head, their words circling like vultures, pecking at thoughts she refused to acknowledge.
Jealous.
She wasn’t. Or at least, she told herself she wasn’t. But jealousy had a cruel way of making itself known, creeping beneath her skin, sinking into her chest like a slow-burning ember. It festered in the spaces Solenne had left empty, in the quiet walk home, in the unanswered questions Aurelle didn’t dare voice.
Instead of taking the usual path home, she turned left. The longer route. Maybe the extra time would help her clear her head, maybe the fresh air would loosen the grip of the ache in her chest. But as she walked, her thoughts tangled tighter, the sky above stretching in muted gray, heavy with the promise of rain. The air was thick, the weight of an impending storm pressing down against her skin, mirroring the storm inside her.
She barely noticed her own steps, barely felt the cool air against her skin. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts she couldn’t grasp, emotions she didn’t want to name. The silence had been bearable. The uncertainty had been livable. But this—this was a different kind of ache, one that seeped into her bones and settled in the spaces Solenne used to fill.
And yet, even as she drowned in the mess of emotions she refused to untangle, her feet carried her forward with unsettling certainty. A path so deeply ingrained into her very being that she followed it without thought, without hesitation.
She barely registered it until she looked up and realized where she was going.
Solenne’s house.
Her chest tightened painfully, realization settling like ice in her veins. Of course, she had walked this way. It was their routine, their unspoken pattern, a habit that was etched so deeply into her that even now—after everything—her body still followed it without thought.
She exhaled sharply, her breath shaky as she ran a hand through her hair, trying to will away the emotions clawing at her throat. But just as she was about to turn around, just as she was about to force herself to leave, her gaze landed on something—
Someone.
Solenne.
She was standing there, just outside her house, bathed in the dim glow of the setting sun. For a moment, the world narrowed to just this—just the way Solenne looked so achingly familiar yet unbearably distant all at once. Just the way her hair caught the fading light. Just the way her shoulders were slightly hunched, as if the weight of something invisible rested upon them.
But she’s with someone.
Her hands clenched by her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, wasn’t even sure why she had ended up here in the first place. But the sight of Solenne standing there, her posture relaxed, her lips curved slightly in quiet conversation—it struck something deep, something raw.
And suddenly, it all came crashing down.
Like a tidal wave crashing through the fragile walls she had so carefully built. Like the first crack in a dam before the inevitable flood. The realization that had lurked in the shadows of her thoughts, in the corners of every lingering glance, every hesitant touch, every stolen moment of silence. The truth she had spent weeks denying now stood in front of her, undeniable, unwavering.
She had fallen.
Fallen in ways she didn’t know how to recover from, fallen into something so deep and terrifying that it threatened to swallow her whole. She had spent so long convincing herself that nothing had changed, that she wasn’t looking at Solenne differently, that she wasn’t hanging onto her words like they meant more than they should. But standing here now, watching her, with someone other than her, feeling the weight of everything she had refused to name—how could she deny it?
Her hands clenched into fists in the pockets of her jacket, as if grasping at something, anything, to steady herself. But there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to anchor her against the current of emotions dragging her under. It was terrifying, the depth of it. It was overwhelming, stretching endlessly inside her like the night sky itself.
She wanted to turn around. To flee before it consumed her entirely. But her feet remained rooted to the pavement, her heart a traitor in her own chest, beating in a rhythm that only Solenne had ever managed to set.
She loved her.
It wasn’t a question anymore. It wasn’t some fleeting, confused thought she could shove aside. It was here, heavy and real and terrifying in its entirety.
She had spent so long denying it, convincing herself that nothing had changed, that the silence between them was temporary, that the ache in her chest was just confusion.
But there was no confusion now.
Only certainty. And fear.
Because love, when it comes unexpectedly, when it is aimed at the one person who has always felt like home, is the most terrifying thing of all.
And watching Solenne with someone else—
That was the moment Aurelle realized just how much she had to lose.
-
The air felt different.
Solenne walked alongside him, their strides uneven, his voice filling the space between them with casual conversation she barely registered. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t familiar either. It was just... different. And that difference settled in her chest like an ache she didn’t know how to name.
Above them, the sky was heavy with darkened clouds, the air thick with the promise of rain. It mirrored the weight pressing against her ribs, the tension that had built up over weeks of unspoken words and hesitant glances. A storm waiting to break, but never arriving.
She should have felt relieved—relieved that, for once, she wasn’t suffocating in silence, wasn’t drowning in the heavy quiet that had stretched between her and Aurelle for weeks. Instead, she found herself lost in the contrast, in the way every moment felt slightly off, like a song played just a beat too slow.
With Aurelle, the silences had never felt like this. Even in the past few weeks, when words had dwindled between them, the silence had still felt full, still felt like something shared. It had been weighted with unspoken thoughts, tangled with the hesitation in their glances, heavy with something just out of reach. But this—this was just empty. It was noise without meaning, words spoken just to fill the void.
She was nodding at something he said, something about a class they had together, but she barely heard it. Her mind was elsewhere, tracing the edges of a memory she hadn’t meant to stumble into. She remembered walking this same path so many times, but not like this. She remembered Aurelle’s steady presence beside her, the way their steps always seemed to fall in sync without trying, the way she would glance over and find Aurelle already looking at her.
When had that changed?
When had something so effortless become something she had to run from?
Solenne clenched her fingers tighter around the strap of her bag, forcing herself back into the present. She shouldn’t be thinking about this. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Space. An escape from the suffocating weight of whatever had settled between her and Aurelle, something she hadn’t been ready to face. But if that was true, why did it feel like she was missing something vital, something she couldn’t name?
They reached her house too soon, and she stopped at the gate, offering a small smile. He smiled back, still talking, but his words barely reached her. She nodded at the right moments, forced out a small laugh when he did, pretending to be present when her mind was miles away.
And then, just as she was about to turn, she felt it—a presence, something tugging at her senses before she could even name it.
Her breath caught.
In the corner of her vision, just past the boy in front of her, she saw her.
Aurelle stood at a distance, still as a shadow in the fading light. Solenne’s heart stilled, then lurched, something tightening painfully in her chest. Aurelle wasn’t moving, wasn’t saying anything, just standing there. Watching.
A moment stretched between them, silent and unbearable.
For a second—just a second—Solenne wanted to run to her. To close the distance, to say something, to pull them back to what they used to be. But she didn’t move. Neither did Aurelle.
The first drops of rain kissed her skin, streaking down in slow, silver lines. It blurred the edges of everything—the trees, the pavement, the world between them. But Aurelle was still clear, painfully clear, like something solid in a world unraveling at the seams.
The weight in her chest grew heavier.
And then, as if the moment had never existed, Aurelle turned and walked away.
Solenne’s breath shuddered out of her. The boy in front of her said something, but she wasn’t listening anymore.
She had never wanted space more than she did now, and yet, as she watched Aurelle disappear down the street, all she could feel was the unbearable ache of distance.