Saturday mornings had always been slow, but today, it felt heavier. Maddie was lying across my bed, one of my pillows hugged tightly against her chest, while I sat on the floor by my dresser, sipping my second cup of coffee. The familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla lingered from the candles I had lit earlier, mixing with the distant hum of my mom moving around downstairs.
My room was our usual retreat, a place where Maddie and I could talk about anything and everything without judgment. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the walls lined with bookshelves and old photos. It should have felt comforting, but there was an unspoken tension hanging between us, something weighing Maddie down more than usual.
She exhaled, rubbing her temple. "I just don't get it," she muttered, her voice laced with frustration. "I don't even know what we're fighting about half the time."
I watched her carefully. She looked exhausted, her strawberry blonde hair a mess from where she had absentmindedly run her fingers through it. Her green eyes, usually full of life, were clouded with something I couldn't quite understand.
Trevor.
I had heard his name one too many times in conversations like this. He had been around since first year, a business major like Maddie. They met in Business Law, one of those foundational courses that everyone had to take. Apparently Maddie had been sitting at the back, half-listening to the professor's lecture when Trevor slid into the seat beside her. He was effortlessly charming, the kind of guy who carried himself with confidence, always looking like he belonged no matter where he was. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark brown hair that always seemed just slightly unkempt in an intentional way. His sharp blue eyes held a cockiness that could either be infuriating or magnetic, depending on how you looked at him.
One class project later, he had invited her to a party. Maddie wasn't really the party type—at least, she hadn't been before him. But something about Trevor made her say yes. One party turned into two, then three, and before she knew it, she was part of his world. Late nights, loud music, his friends, the never-ending cycle of drinks and laughter that blurred into something almost intoxicating.
"I knew what I was getting into," she admitted, shaking her head. "I mean, I saw how he was. He never really... slowed down. And at first, it was fun. It was easy."
I stayed quiet, letting her talk.
"But now," she exhaled sharply, "it's like every little thing turns into a fight. If I don't want to go out? I'm boring. If I do go, but I don't drink enough? I'm 'killing the vibe.' And don't even get me started on how he acts when other guys so much as breathe near me."
She rolled her eyes, but there was something sad behind it. Something tired.
"And now," she continued, "it's just... exhausting. We argue, then we make up, then we act like it didn't happen. But it did happen, and it keeps happening."
I frowned. "Maddie, that doesn't sound—"
"I know," she cut in, shaking her head again. "I know what you're going to say. That I should just end it. That it's toxic. But it's not that simple, Katie. I wish it was."
I nodded slowly, not pretending to understand but knowing better than to push her when she wasn't ready. Maddie wasn't someone who let go easily, even when it was hurting her.
She stared at the ceiling for a long moment before turning to face me. "It's like... I still care about him, but I don't know if I like him anymore. Does that make sense?"
It didn't. Not to me. But I nodded anyway.
Maddie sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Have you ever felt like you're holding onto something, not because you want to, but because you don't know how to let it go?"
Something in my stomach twisted at her words. I thought of Benson. Of Aiden. Of the way everything in my life felt like it was slowly unraveling in different directions, and I had no idea where I was supposed to be.
I didn't answer her question.
Maybe because I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer myself.