Chapter Seven
The Girl Who Looked at Me Like I Did Not Belong
I should not have cared.
That was the first thing I told myself as I walked away, my steps steady, my expression calm, like nothing about that moment had touched me, like the way she looked at me had not settled somewhere deeper than I wanted to admit.
But it stayed.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
Just there.
Quiet and constant.
The way her eyes moved over me, quick, dismissive, like I was something unimportant, something temporary, something that did not belong in whatever space she thought was hers.
I did not like that.
I did not like how easily it got under my skin.
"You left fast."
Lila's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I glanced at her, realizing too late that she had been walking beside me for longer than I noticed.
"I was done."
"With what?"
"Nothing."
She stopped.
I took a step before I realized, then turned back, already knowing what I would see.
That look.
The one that meant she already knew something I was not saying.
"You are lying," she said.
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am not."
She held my gaze, quiet, patient, like she was waiting for me to give in, to say something I was not ready to say.
"I saw you," she added.
My chest tightened slightly.
"That does not mean anything."
"It means you were not alone."
"I know that."
"And you still walked away."
"I always walk away."
"Not like that."
I said nothing.
Because she was right.
It was not the same.
It did not feel the same.
"Who is she?" Lila asked.
"I do not know."
"That is worse."
"It does not matter."
"It does."
"It does not."
"It does."
I exhaled slowly, my fingers tightening slightly around the strap of my bag, grounding myself in something simple, something steady.
"She is nothing to me," I said.
"But she is something to him."
The words settled.
Sharp.
Unavoidable.
And for a moment, I had no response.
Because I did not know.
And that was the problem.
"I do not care," I said finally.
Lila watched me.
Carefully.
Like she was trying to decide whether to believe me or not.
"You do," she said quietly.
"I do not."
"You do."
"I do not."
She sighed softly, shaking her head.
"You are already in this," she said.
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am not."
"You are."
I looked away.
Because continuing this would only push me closer to something I was trying to stay away from.
And I needed distance.
More than anything, I needed distance.
---
The rest of the day felt different.
Not because anything changed.
But because everything had.
I noticed things I had not noticed before.
The way people looked at him when he passed.
The way conversations shifted when his name came up.
The way attention followed him without effort.
And her.
I noticed her too.
Not directly.
Never directly.
But enough.
Enough to understand.
She was not just someone who knew him.
She was someone who belonged in his world.
Confident.
Certain.
Unquestioned.
The kind of person who did not need to ask for attention because she had always had it.
The opposite of me.
And for the first time since all of this started, I felt something new.
Not confusion.
Not hesitation.
Something sharper.
Something I did not like.
I ignored it.
I had to.
Because acknowledging it would mean admitting something I was not ready to face.
---
By the time the day ended, I was tired again.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
In a way that made everything feel heavier than it should have been.
I should have gone home.
I knew that.
I told myself that.
But my steps slowed near the path.
The same path.
The one I said I would avoid.
The one that had already become something more than just a place.
I stopped.
Just for a second.
That was all it took.
"You are predictable."
His voice was calm.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
I did not turn immediately.
Because I already knew he was there.
I could feel it.
"You should stop saying that," I said quietly.
"Why?"
"Because it is not true."
"It is."
"It is not."
"It is."
I turned.
Slowly.
And there he was.
Standing a few steps away.
Watching me.
Like always.
But something was different.
Not in the way he looked.
In the way I felt.
"Where is she?" I asked before I could stop myself.
The moment the words left, I regretted them.
His expression shifted.
Just slightly.
But enough.
"That is what you are thinking about?" he asked.
"I am not thinking about anything."
"You are."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am not."
He took a step closer.
Not too close.
But enough.
"You noticed her," he said.
"That does not mean anything."
"It does."
"It does not."
"It does."
I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself, trying to push back whatever this was becoming.
"I do not care," I said.
"You do."
"I do not."
"You do."
"I do not."
"Then why did you ask?"
Silence.
Again.
And this time, it was worse.
Because I did not have an answer.
And he knew it.
"She is nothing to you," I said.
"No."
"And you are nothing to her."
"No."
"Then what is this?"
He held my gaze.
Steady.
Unmoving.
"This," he said quietly, "is you trying to understand something you already feel."
My chest tightened.
"That is not true."
"It is."
"It is not."
"It is."
I shook my head, stepping back, creating space that felt necessary, even when it was already too late for that.
"You are making this complicated."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am not."
Silence fell again.
But this time, it felt like something else.
Not tension.
Not confusion.
Something clearer.
Something harder to ignore.
"You did not answer her," I said.
His gaze did not leave mine.
"I did not need to."
"Why?"
"Because I was here."
The words settled.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
And for a moment, everything felt too clear.
Too simple.
Too real.
"That does not make sense," I said.
"It does to me."
"That is not enough."
"It is."
I looked at him.
Really looked.
At the calm.
At the certainty.
At the way he stood there like nothing about this was uncertain for him.
And for the first time, I realized something that made everything feel more dangerous than before.
He was choosing this.
Not casually.
Not accidentally.
Deliberately.
"I should go," I said.
"Yes."
But I did not move.
And neither did he.
"You keep doing that," he said.
"Doing what?"
"Saying you will leave."
"I will."
"You will not."
"I will."
"You will not."
"I will."
"Then go."
The words were calm.
Simple.
And this time, they were real.
No challenge.
No expectation.
Just truth.
I looked at him.
At the calm.
At the control.
At the way he stood there like he was giving me a choice instead of taking it away.
And that was the problem.
Because I did not know what to choose.
I turned.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And I started walking.
One step.
Then another.
Waiting.
Listening.
Expecting.
Nothing.
No voice.
No interruption.
Just silence.
And somehow, that felt louder than anything else.
But just as I reached the end of the path, just as I told myself this was over, that I had finally done what I said I would do, that I had walked away without stopping, without turning, without giving in,
I heard it.
Not my name.
Something else.
"You really think this is over?"
Her voice.
Sharp.
Close.
Too close.
I stopped.
Slowly, I turned.
She was standing there.
Watching me.
Not him.
Me.
And the way she looked at me this time was different.
Not dismissive.
Not careless.
Something else.
Something that made my chest tighten before I could stop it.
"You should be careful," she said quietly.
The words were simple.
But they did not feel like advice.
They felt like a warning.
End of Chapter Seven