Ellie had been doing fine or at least, that's what she kept telling herself.
She went to school, did her assignments (most of them, anyway), and spent time with Angel whenever she could. It wasn't perfect, but it was stable. Safe. It was a life without the chaos that had come with Astrid, without the heartbreak, without the weight of unspoken feelings suffocating her.
Or so she thought.
The moment it happened, she felt something inside her shatter.
She had been heading toward the cafeteria with Tisha when she heard the familiar sound of laughter. She wasn't going to look. She didn't need to look.
But she did.
Across the room, near the next building Astrid are with her friends talking. Laughing. Astrid's eyes crinkled at the corners the way they always did when she was genuinely happy.
And just like that, Ellie's stomach twisted into knots.
"Ellie?"
She barely registered Tisha's voice.
This wasn't supposed to matter anymore. She had spent so much time pushing Astrid out of her heart, convincing herself that she was moving forward. She had Kyla now, didn't she? She had options, a way out of this endless cycle of heartbreak.
So why did it feel like she was being ripped apart all over again?
"Earth to Ellie?" Tisha nudged her.
Ellie blinked and turned away. "Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?"
Tisha frowned, clearly seeing through her. "You were staring at Astrid."
"No, I wasn't," Ellie lied.
"You so were."
Ellie let out a dry chuckle. "Whatever. It's not a big deal."
But Tisha kept watching her, unconvinced. And honestly? Ellie wasn't convinced either.
That night, lying in bed, she whispered a truth she had been avoiding for far too long.
"I still love her."
And the worst part?
She didn't know how to stop.
Ellie stared at the ceiling that night, her fingers tangled in her bedsheets, the silence around her screaming louder than anything she had heard all day.
"I still love her," she whispered again.
Saying it out loud didn't make it better. If anything, it made the truth sharper. Real. It dug itself deeper into her chest and refused to let go.
She turned to the side, clutching her pillow as if it could hold her together. Her mind played cruel tricks on her flashes of Astrid's smile, the way her voice used to soften only for Ellie, how she used to tuck strands of hair behind Ellie's ear during study nights. It all came rushing back like a wave she wasn't ready for.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
No. She couldn't do this again. She had Kyla now. Kyla, who had been kind, patient, and always there when she needed someone. Kyla, who had never once walked away even when Ellie kept shutting down.
But the heart doesn't always follow logic.
The next morning, Ellie tried to carry herself like nothing had changed. She got dressed, grabbed her bag, and went to class. But everything felt heavier. Every laugh she forced, every smile she wore, it all cracked at the edges.
During lunch, Kyla joined her at their usual bench. She sat close and leaned her shoulder against Ellie's like she always did.
"You okay?" Kyla asked, eyes searching her face.
Ellie nodded without meeting her gaze. "Yeah. Just tired."
Kyla raised an eyebrow. "You're always tired lately."
"I've been busy."
"With what?"
Ellie stayed quiet. The lie sat on her tongue but refused to leave her lips.
Kyla leaned back, crossing her arms. "Ellie. Talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about."
Kyla frowned. "Don't do that. Don't shut me out."
"I'm not—"
"You are. Ever since yesterday, you've been distant. Cold, even."
Ellie stood up abruptly. "I said I'm fine, Kyla."
But Kyla stood too, refusing to let her walk away. "Is this about Astrid?"
The silence that followed was all the answer Kyla needed.
Ellie didn't say a word.
Kyla's voice dropped, quieter now. "You saw her, didn't you?"
Ellie closed her eyes for a moment. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me. I'm not stupid, Ellie. I know when something's off. And I saw the way you looked at her yesterday."
Ellie turned to walk away, but Kyla grabbed her wrist. "Stop pretending."
Ellie yanked her arm back, her voice rising. "You want me to say it? Fine! I still love her! There, are you happy?"
Kyla flinched. The air between them shifted instantly.
Ellie's breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling like she had just run a mile. She hadn't meant to say it like that. But the words had come out fast, like they'd been building pressure for days.
Kyla looked stunned. Hurt. Her eyes glistened, and for a second, Ellie wished she could take it all back.
"I was right," Kyla said softly. "You've never moved on."
Ellie's hands trembled at her sides. "It's not that simple."
"Yes, it is. You chose her, Ellie. Even when she wasn't choosing you. And now you're trying to make me some kind of replacement, and it hurts."
"I never said you were a replacement!"
"But that's what it feels like!" Kyla's voice cracked. "I've been here for you. Through everything. I listened to you cry over her. I picked up the pieces. I gave you space. I gave you time. And still, I'm not enough."
Ellie's lips parted, but nothing came out. Because Kyla was right. She hadn't meant to use her. But in some twisted way, she had leaned on her too hard without realizing what it was costing both of them.
Kyla took a step closer. "You don't even see me, do you? You see Astrid in every corner, and you just keep dragging me into that shadow."
"That's not true," Ellie whispered, but even her voice lacked conviction.
Kyla's chest heaved with every breath. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to say you love someone else and still hold my hand."
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
"But you did."
Something inside Ellie snapped. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was the fear of losing the one person who had stayed. Her voice rose again, fueled by panic.
"You think I wanted this? You think I want to be in love with someone who left me? Who made me feel like I was nothing?"
"Then why can't you let her go?" Kyla demanded.
"Because she was my everything!" Ellie shouted.
For a second, the world went still. The weight of those words hovered between them.
Then Kyla did something Ellie never expected.
She slapped her.
It wasn't hard enough to bruise, but it stung. More than physically, it jolted her.
Ellie brought her hand up to her cheek, eyes wide in disbelief.
Kyla looked just as shocked. Her chest was heaving, her hands shaking. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, stepping back. "I didn't mean to—"
Ellie looked away, her voice breaking. "Maybe I deserved it."
"No," Kyla said, guilt written all over her face. "No one deserves that. I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't take it anymore."
Ellie didn't respond. Her throat was tight, and her eyes burned.
"I need some time," Kyla said softly. "I can't be the only one trying."
Ellie nodded. "I understand."
Without another word, Kyla walked away. Ellie didn't follow.
She stood there in the courtyard, frozen in place. Students passed by, laughter echoed from nearby tables, the sun still shone—but inside, she felt like the world had stopped spinning.
She went home that night in silence.
She didn't talk to anyone. She didn't open her phone. She just sat on the floor of her room, hugging her knees to her chest and trying to remember how it felt to breathe before everything got so heavy.
Tears came slowly at first, then faster. They soaked into her sleeves, her skin, the floor beneath her.
She cried for Astrid.
She cried for Kyla.
And most of all, she cried for herself.
Because she didn't know who she was without the people she loved. And now she had lost both.
It was hours before she finally moved. Her body ached, her throat was sore, and her face was swollen from crying.
She crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling again.
This time, there were no whispers.
Just silence.
But in the stillness, something changed.
Maybe she couldn't fix everything. Maybe she had hurt people she cared about. Maybe she had made mistakes. But for the first time, she realized she had to stop waiting for someone else to fix her.
She had to do that herself.
Tomorrow, she would get up. She would talk to Kyla, even if Kyla didn't want to talk back. She would face the memories of Astrid, not to hold onto them, but to let them go properly. She would stop pretending that everything was okay when it wasn't.
Tomorrow, she would try.
And maybe, just maybe, trying was enough for now.