The weekend passed in a blur of silence.
Erica didn't do much—no meetups, no phone calls, not even the usual texts in the group chat. She stayed mostly in her room, lying on her bed with her headphones in, letting playlists shuffle endlessly as her thoughts spiraled.
Nicole.
The name felt like both a wound and a lullaby.
Every time she tried to push it away, it came back—soft and painful and real.
She remembered the sound of her laugh, the weight of her gaze, the way her presence lingered even after she'd walked away. But then she'd also remember the pain, the tears, the helplessness of watching Nicole walk out of her life without looking back.
How do you reconcile love with heartbreak?
How do you forgive someone who once made you feel like you weren't enough?
And yet… why did she still want to?
---
By Sunday night, Erica sat at her desk with the lights off, watching the city lights blink outside her window. Her journal was open, but no words came. Just her hand holding the pen and her heart thudding heavily in her chest.
She couldn't pretend to be numb anymore.
Not when the ache kept whispering Nicole's name.
---
Monday arrived with a weight that clung to her shoulders. School felt louder than usual—voices echoing in the hallway, the slam of lockers, footsteps rushing past her like waves. She walked slowly, ignoring the greetings, letting herself breathe in the rhythm of her thoughts.
She wasn't sure what she wanted to happen.
But she needed to see her.
She needed to look into Nicole's eyes again—not for closure, but for truth.
By lunch, Erica found herself walking toward the courtyard.
The same courtyard where it all began, where it all fell apart, where every unsaid word still hung in the air.
And when she turned the corner, her breath caught.
There she was.
Nicole, sitting alone by the fountain, her fingers tracing the edge of the bench, head bowed, as if she'd been waiting… not just today, but for weeks.
Maybe months.
Maybe longer.
---
Erica approached slowly, her steps quiet against the stone path. Nicole looked up, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
Erica noticed how tired Nicole looked—how her smile wasn't really a smile, how her eyes looked like they'd memorized regret.
But there was something else there too.
Hope.
"Hey," Nicole said softly, her voice barely louder than the breeze.
"Hey," Erica replied, sitting down beside her, just far enough that they weren't touching, but close enough that Nicole could feel the warmth of her presence.
Silence lingered, thick with what-ifs and almosts.
"I've been thinking," Erica finally said, her gaze fixed on the water in the fountain. "All weekend, I've been trying to figure out if I'm just clinging to something that's already dead... or if there's still something worth saving between us."
Nicole looked over, but didn't speak.
"I don't want to go back to what we were before," Erica continued, her voice steadier now. "I don't want the confusion. The silence. The walking away without explaining."
"I know," Nicole whispered. "I hated myself for that."
Erica turned to her. "Then tell me the truth. Are you here because you miss me… or because you can't stand the guilt?"
Nicole's eyes filled with something raw—shame, maybe. But also honesty.
"I'm here because I still love you," she said. "Even after everything. Even after all the mistakes I made. I didn't expect you to forgive me. I didn't even expect you to talk to me again. But… I hoped."
Erica inhaled slowly, her chest tight. "I'm still angry, Nicole. I'm still hurt."
"I know."
"But I'm also tired of carrying it alone."
Nicole nodded. "Me too."
They sat in silence again, the sounds of the courtyard fading into a distant hum. For a moment, all that existed was them—two broken hearts still beating, still searching.
"I think…" Erica said finally, her voice quieter now, "I think I'm willing to give us another shot. But only if we're both in it. Really in it. No more running. No more shutting down. I need you to fight this time."
Nicole's breath hitched. "I will."
"I mean it, Nicole."
"I know," she said, eyes shining. "And I will."
A long pause stretched between them.
Then, slowly, a smile broke across Nicole's face—not a wide one, but small and trembling and full of light.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Erica gave a faint smile of her own. "Let's see where this goes, okay?"
Nicole nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. Let's take it slow. But real."
They didn't hug. They didn't kiss. They didn't even touch.
But in that small corner of the world, in the silence that held them both, something shifted.
Something mended.
Maybe not fully.
But enough to begin again.
---
Later that day, Erica sat alone on a bench near the gym, watching students walk past, laughing and shouting. She felt… different.
Not fixed. Not magically healed.
But lighter.
And for the first time in a long while, she wasn't waiting for someone to complete her.
She was choosing.
And that choice—messy, uncertain, brave—was hers.