I've always been good at hiding secrets.
The one I'm keeping now is the heaviest.
I stop at the corner of Pine Street, tugging at the sleeve of my denim jacket as I glance toward their house. Christopher's window is open, curtains swaying in the late September breeze. Two doors down, Henry's bedroom light is already on. Same block, same family, same pair of brownstone houses I've walked past a thousand times—and yet, today, I feel like a trespasser.
My heart does that annoying thing again: beating too fast, like it knows I'm about to get caught.
"Hey, Ivy!"
I jump at the sound of my name. Christopher's voice is soft, warm, like coffee on a cold morning. He's leaning casually against the railing, hoodie sleeves rolled up, smile so familiar it hurts.
"Hi, Chris," I manage, brushing my braids over my shoulder.
He jogs down the steps, that easygoing grin never leaving his face. "You walking home alone again? I told you I'd meet you after class."
Before I can answer, the front door next door creaks open. Henry steps out, hands in his pockets, leaning against the frame. His dark eyes scan me like I'm some sort of puzzle. He doesn't smile. He never does anymore.
"Ivy," he says flatly, but there's a weight in his voice that makes my stomach twist.
Suddenly, I'm standing between them, like always—Christopher's calm warmth on one side, Henry's quiet intensity on the other.
And all I can think is:
I should have never let this happen.
---
"Walk with us," Christopher says, breaking the awkward silence. He gestures toward the street, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
"Sure," I say, forcing a smile.
We start down the cracked sidewalk, my footsteps light, theirs heavier. Chris falls into step on my right, Henry close on my left. I can feel the tension humming in the space between us, like a stretched guitar string ready to snap.
"You're quiet today," Chris says gently. "Rough day at school?"
"Not really. Just… tired."
He nods, accepting that, because that's Chris—he never pushes too hard.
Henry, on the other hand, snorts. "Or maybe she's just avoiding questions."
I freeze for a second, glancing at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugs, not looking at me. "Nothing."
Christopher shoots him a look, that older-brother glare he does so well. "Henry. Don't start."
"Relax," Henry mutters, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets. "I'm just saying she's been acting… different lately."
I swallow hard. Different. That's one way to put it.
Because Henry's right—I have been different. Ever since I realized I liked Christopher, the boy who'd been my safe place since freshman year. And ever since Henry started looking at me like I wasn't just a friend anymore.
My world tilted, and now I'm stuck here, heart split clean in two.
We reach my street, and I stop in front of my building. "Thanks for walking me home," I say, voice soft.
Christopher's smile is easy, genuine. "Always, Ivy."
Henry just watches me, eyes dark and unreadable. "See you tomorrow," he says, but it sounds more like a warning than a goodbye.
I wave weakly and head inside, closing the door behind me. My back hits the wood, and I let out a shaky breath.
---
I lock the door behind me and step into the warm glow of our tiny apartment. The smell of fried plantains and something sweet lingers in the air, wrapping me in comfort.
"Ivy, is that you?" Mom calls from the kitchen. Her voice is soft but carries that gentle authority only mothers have.
"Yeah, Mom." I drop my backpack on the couch and kick off my sneakers.
She appears in the doorway, apron tied around her waist, a wooden spoon in hand. Her curls are piled high on her head, and she has that tired-but-smiling look she always wears after a long day at work.
"You're home late."
"Study group," I lie smoothly. Not a total lie—we'd studied at the library. But most of my focus had been on keeping my heart from bursting every time Christopher smiled at me, or Henry's eyes lingered too long.
Mom studies me for a moment, spoon resting against her chin. "You look distracted, baby. Everything okay?"
I force a smile. "I'm fine. Just… a lot on my mind."
She walks over and gently cups my cheek, the way she's done since I was little. "You've always had a busy mind. You're so much like your father—dreaming big, carrying too much." Her eyes soften. "Don't let this world weigh you down, Ivy. You've got a good heart."
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Thanks, Mom."
She leans down and kisses my forehead. "Go shower and eat. I saved you some food. And don't stay up too late filling out those applications. You'll get into a good college; I know it."
I manage a small smile. "Okay."
As I retreat to my room, I can't shake her words. A good heart.
If only she knew how tangled mine really was.
I collapse onto my bed, staring at the ceiling and for a brief second, I picture what life would be like if I could stop feeling this way about Christopher. If I could stop Henry from looking at me like I'm the only thing keeping him alive.
But it's too late for that.
Because somewhere between laughter, study sessions, and late-night walks home… I'd let both of them into my heart.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Missed Call: Christopher
A tiny smile tugs at my lips. Of course it's him. He's probably just checking if I got home safe.
But before I can call him back, another notification lights up my screen.
Text from Henry: "Heyyy, cupcake."
My stomach tightens. He hasn't called me that in months—not since things started feeling… complicated.
I drop the phone onto my chest, staring at the glowing screen, two names right there, side by side.
And just like that, the tightrope I'm walking feels thinner than ever.