He walked beside me like always.
Close.
Easy.
Like nothing was wrong.
"You're quiet," he said.
"I'm always quiet."
"Not like this."
I didn't reply.
Because I didn't trust my voice.
We reached the gate, the same place we always slowed down.
The same place where things used to feel… light.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"You don't look okay."
I shrugged.
"I'm fine, Ethan."
He didn't move.
Didn't step aside.
Instead, he shifted slightly in front of me, blocking my path just enough to make me stop.
"Ivy."
"What?"
"Talk to me."
That almost made me laugh.
Not because it was funny.
But because a part of me actually wanted to.
Wanted to just say it.
Your ex told me I'm not the first girl you've done this with.
But I didn't.
"I'm just tired,"I said instead.
He looked at me for a long second.
Like he was trying to decide if that was true.
"Okay,"he said finally.
But his voice didn't sound convinced.
"I'll text you,"he added.
I nodded and walked past him.
The bus ride felt longer than usual.
My head was resting against the window.
The outside blur matches the mess inside my mind.
Her words replayed.
Again.
And again.
You're not the first girl.
I closed my eyes.
No.
She was just trying to mess with me.
That's all.
But then—
Why did it feel like it fit too well?
I reached home quietly.
The house was loud, like always.
My brother talking nonstop.
My mom moving around the kitchen.
My dad—
sitting in the same place.
Eyes on his phone.
I stood there for a second.
Then said, "I got good marks on my submission today."
"Hmm," he replied.
Not looking up.
That was it.
I nodded to myself.
Like I expected that.
Like it didn't matter.
Then I went to my room.
I sat on the floor.
Picked up my crochet.
One loop.
Pull through.
Another.
The rhythm should've helped.
It always did.
But today—
It didn't.
My phone buzzed.
I stared at it before picking it up.
Ethan:You got home?
I typed.
Ivy:Yeah
A few seconds passed.
Ethan:You're still quiet
I didn't reply.
Another message came.
Ethan:Did I do something?
My fingers hovered over the screen.
This was it.
I could ask.
I could just say it.
Instead—
Ivy:No
Typing…
Stopped.
Typing again.
Ethan:Then what is it?
I stared at the message.
Then typed slowly—
Ivy:Nothing
A pause.
Then—
Ethan:Don't do that
I frowned.
Ivy:Do what
Ethan:Shut me out
My chest tightened slightly.
Ivy:I'm not
Ethan:You are
Silence.
I didn't reply.
Because I didn't know how to explain something I didn't fully understand myself.
Another message came.
Ethan:Ivy
Then—
Ethan:Look at me tomorrow and say everything's fine
I stared at that.
That didn't feel like a request.
It felt like something else.
Something heavier.
I locked my phone.
Put it aside.
Picked up the yarn again.
But the rhythm was gone.
Because now—
It wasn't just her voice in my head.
It was his, too.
The next morning—
I almost didn't go.
But I did.
Of course I did.
Routine.
Control.
Comfort.
I walked into class.
And there he was.
Same seat.
Same posture.
Like nothing had changed.
"Hey,"he said.
I nodded.
"Hi."
I sat down.
Not too close.
Not too far.
Just enough.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
"You're still doing that," he said.
"Doing what?"
"Acting like nothing's wrong."
I opened my notebook.
"Nothing is wrong."
He leaned back slightly.
"Look at me."
I didn't.
"Ivy."
I exhaled.
Then looked at him.
"See?" he said quietly."You can't even say it properly."
"That's because there's nothing to say."
"That's not true."
"And how would you know?"
Silence.
That shifted something.
His expression changed.
Less soft.
More sharp.
"Because I know you," he said.
"You don't."
"I do."
"No, you don't."
We held eye contact for a second too long.
Then I looked away.
Because this—
This didn't feel easy anymore.
"You're letting someone get in your head," he said.
My grip on my pen tightened.
"What?"
"I can tell," he continued."You don't just switch like this."
That made my chest tighten.
Because he was right.
But also—
How did he know?
"I didn't switch," I said.
"You did."
"I didn't."
"You did,"he repeated.
Then—
"Who was it?"
My heart skipped.
"What?"
"Who said something to you?"
I froze.
That was too direct.
Too close.
"Ivy."
I shook my head.
"No one."
He watched me.
Longer this time.
"You're a bad liar," he said.
"I'm not lying."
"You are."
"I'm not."
Another pause.
Then—
"Was it her?"
My breath caught.
I didn't answer.
That was enough.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"What did she say?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"Ivy."
"Nothing, Ethan."
"That's not nothing."
"It is to me."
That wasn't true.
And he knew it.
"I don't care what she said,"he said.
"That's easy for you."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Silence.
"What's that supposed to mean?"he asked.
I looked at him.
Really looked.
"You tell me."
For the first time—
He didn't have an answer immediately.
And somehow—
That made everything feel worse.