Worry is a strange feeling.
It doesn't rush in like panic, loud and obvious. It settles. Quiet. Patient. Like it's rearranging the inside of your chest, shifting things just enough that nothing quite sits right anymore.
That was what this felt like.
Not confusion.
Not even fear.
Just the steady, unshakable awareness that something had already gone wrong… and I was late to it.
Thursday started worse than Wednesday ended.
I got to school earlier than usual. Not because I had somewhere to be, but because staying at home felt like sitting in a room where the walls were slowly inching closer. Here, at least, there was movement. Noise. Distraction.
None of it worked.
Because the first thing I noticed, was the fact that She wasn't there.
Wren's seat sat empty, her bag missing, her chair pushed in like she'd never occupied it in the first place.
Something in my chest tightened.
"Relax," Marcus muttered, dropping into the seat beside me like he owned the air around him. "It's been five minutes."
"I'm not—"
"About to start pacing?" he cut in. "Yeah, I can tell."
I didn't answer. Because I was.
Just not physically.
Marcus leaned back in his chair, studying me like I was a problem he hadn't decided to solve yet. "She skipped?"
"She doesn't skip."
"You sound very sure for someone who barely knows her."
I clenched my jaw slightly. "She doesn't."
Marcus hummed like he didn't believe me, but he didn't push it further.
The teacher walked in a few minutes later, class starting like normal, but my attention stayed fixed on that empty seat.
Every minute she didn't walk through that door made something in me tighten a little more.
By the time the bell rang, Nothing.
By break, I was done waiting.
"She's not in the cafeteria either," Maya said, frowning as she looked around like Wren might magically appear if she stared hard enough.
I crossed my arms, scanning the room anyway. "Did she say anything to you?"
"No." Maya shook her head, then hesitated. "Well… not really."
"What does that mean?"
"She's been… off," Maya admitted. "Like she's thinking about something and doesn't want anyone to know what it is."
I let out a quiet breath. "Yeah. I noticed."
Maya glanced at me, something curious flickering in her eyes. "Did something happen?"
I thought about the picture.
About the girl.
About the way Wren had looked at me yesterday.
Like I was something she needed to get away from.
"…I might've made things worse," I said finally.
Maya's brows pulled together. "How?"
"I talked to someone from her old school."
That got her full attention.
"You what?"
"I didn't know it would—" I stopped, exhaling sharply. "I didn't even know it mattered like that."
Maya stared at me for a second, then looked away, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"That explains a lot," she muttered.
My stomach dropped slightly. "Explains what?"
Maya hesitated.
Then—
"Wren doesn't like people digging into her past."
"That's not really news," I said dryly.
"No, I mean she really doesn't like it." Maya looked back at me, more serious now. "She doesn't talk about Eastbridge. Ever. The one time I asked, she changed the subject so fast I thought I imagined it."
I ran a hand over the back of my neck. "Great."
"Yeah," Maya sighed. "So if she thinks you're… involved in that somehow…"
She didn't finish.
She didn't need to.
I nodded once, slow. "She thinks I know something."
"Or that you're trying to find out."
I let out a quiet laugh, but there was nothing funny about it. "She's not wrong."
Maya gave me a look. "Elias."
"I'm not doing it to mess with her," I said quickly. "I just—"
I stopped.
Because I didn't have a clean explanation.
Curiosity sounded shallow now.
Interest sounded dangerous.
Concern felt too late.
"I just want to understand," I finished, quieter.
Maya studied me for a second, then sighed. "Yeah. That's exactly the problem."
I found her after school.
Not in the usual places.
Not the café.
Not the front gate.
Behind the building.
Near the old storage block no one really used unless they were trying not to be seen.
Of course.
Wren stood with her back against the wall, arms crossed, her gaze fixed somewhere distant like she was trying to think her way out of something.
For a second, I just watched her.
Not because I didn't want to approach.
But because she looked… different.
Not distant. Not guarded. Tired.
Like whatever she was holding in was starting to weigh more than she could carry.
I stepped closer.
"Wren." I said.
She stiffened.
That was the first thing. Not surprise. Not confusion. Recognition.
Like she'd known I would find her eventually.
She didn't turn.
"Go away, Elias."
Flat.
No hesitation. No softness.
I stopped a few steps away. "We need to talk."
"No, we don't." She said again, Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
"I think we do."
"I don't."
Silence stretched between us, thin and fragile.
I exhaled slowly. "You've been avoiding me."
"And you've been looking into things that don't concern you."
That landed harder than I expected.
I frowned slightly. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"
She turned then. Fast.
Her eyes met mine, sharp and steady, but there was something underneath—
Something unsettled.
"Isn't it?"
I held her gaze. "No."
A pause.
Wren searched my face like she was trying to find something I wasn't saying.
"You talked to her," she said.
Not a question. I didn't deny it.
"I didn't know who she was at first," I said. "I just recognized the jacket."
"That's worse."
My brows pulled together. "How?"
"Because it means you paid enough attention to notice."
I let out a short breath. "Wren—"
"No," she cut in, shaking her head slightly. "You don't get to do that."
"Do what?"
"Act like this is nothing."
Her voice wavered just a little on that last word, and it was enough to make something in my chest tighten.
"I'm not acting like it's nothing," I said, quieter now. "I'm trying to figure out why it's something."
"That's exactly the problem!" she snapped.
The words echoed slightly against the wall behind her.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Wren looked away first, running a hand through her hair like she was trying to steady herself.
"You don't understand how things work," she said, her voice lower now. "You ask questions, and people answer. You show up, and things… make space for you."
I frowned. "That's not—"
"It is," she insisted, looking back at me. "And it's not your fault. But it means you don't get it."
"Then help me get it," I said.
The words came out before I could stop them.
Wren froze slightly.
Something flickered across her face—
Hesitation. Fear. Frustration.
"You don't want that," she said quietly.
"I do."
"No," she shook her head. "You don't."
I stepped closer, closing some of the distance she'd been carefully maintaining. "You don't get to decide that for me."
Her breath hitched slightly.
Barely noticeable.
But I saw it.
"And you don't get to decide you can just walk into something I left behind," she shot back.
"I'm not trying to walk into it," I said. "I'm trying to understand why you're running from it."
The moment the words left my mouth—
I knew.
Wrong choice.
Wren's expression changed instantly.
Not anger. Not even hurt. Just-
Closed.
Like a door slamming shut without warning.
"I'm not running," she said.
But it didn't sound convincing.
Not even to her.
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to soften my tone. "Then why won't you talk to me?"
"Because you don't know when to stop."
That stung, More than it should have.
I took a step back this time, giving her space she clearly wanted. "Okay. Then tell me where the line is."
Wren hesitated.
Just for a second.
And in that second, I saw it—
She didn't know.
Or maybe she did.
And she didn't trust me enough to say.
"That's the thing," she said finally. "There isn't one. Not for you."
I frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means…" she trailed off, then shook her head. "It means you'll keep pushing until you get answers."
"And you won't?"
"I've had practice," she said simply.
Something about the way she said it—
Like it wasn't a joke. Like it wasn't light.
Made something in my chest tighten again.
I studied her for a moment, then said quietly
"I'm not your past, Wren."
Her gaze snapped back to mine.
"I know that."
"Then stop treating me like I am."
Silence.
Wren looked at me like she wanted to argue.
Like she wanted to say something else.
But whatever it was, She swallowed it.
"You should go to practice," she said instead.
Deflection.
Clear.
Clean.
Intentional.
I didn't move.
"Wren."
"Elias."
Her tone sharpened slightly.
Warning.
I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. "I'm not trying to hurt you."
"I know."
"Then why does it feel like I already did?"
That one—
That one landed.
Wren's expression faltered, just for a second.
And in that second, I saw it again.
Not fear. Not avoidance. Something softer
Something conflicted.
"You didn't," she said quietly.
I held her gaze. "Then why are you acting like I did?"
She didn't answer.
Couldn't.
Because whatever the real answer was—
It wasn't simple.
I nodded once, slow.
"Okay," I said.
Not agreement.
Not acceptance.
Just—
Acknowledgment.
Wren watched me carefully, like she didn't trust that I was stepping back.
Maybe she was right not to.
Because even as I turned—
Even as I gave her the space she clearly needed—
That quiet, steady thing in my chest didn't go away.
It settled deeper.
Stronger.
Not curiosity.
Not confusion.
Something else.
Something that didn't need answers right away.
But wasn't going anywhere either.
And that—
That was new.
I didn't go to practice immediately.
I sat in my car again, hands resting on the steering wheel like they had been the night before.
But this time, i wasn't trying to figure out what to say.
I already knew.
The problem wasn't the words.
It was the timing. Wren wasn't ready.
That much was obvious.
And for once,I didn't want to push.
Didn't want to corner her into answers she wasn't willing to give.
Didn't want to be another person who made things louder when she clearly needed quiet.
I leaned my head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling.
"…Yeah," I muttered to myself.
This wasn't something I could force.
And maybe that was the point.
Later that night, my phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
A message.
Not from Marcus.
Not from Josh.
From her.
I stared at the screen longer than I should have before opening it.
Just one line.
I'm not mad at you
I let out a quiet breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
Then, before I could overthink it, I typed back.
I know
A pause.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Came back again.
Then—
Just…. Don't ask about Eastbridge. Please.
I stared at the message.
At the word please.
And something in my chest shifted again.
Softer this time.
Steadier.
Okay, I typed.
No questions
No conditions.
Just that.
This time, when the three dots appeared,
They stayed a little longer.
Then finally—
Thank you.
I set my phone down after that, the silence in the room no longer feeling as heavy as it had the night before.
Nothing was fixed.
Nothing was clear.
But for the first time since all of this started, It didn't feel like everything was breaking either.
And somehow, that was enough.