It feels like two hearts are beating inside me—one racing, the other raw. And neither is mine. Perhaps my heart is too busy supporting others to remember how to beat for itself.
"I need to step out for a second," I said, rising from my chair before I could think.
"Where are you going?" Jace asked, looking up.
"I'm just grabbing something to eat. Do you want anything?"
It wasn't a lie—I did plan to get food. But Oliver was the first thing on my mind.
"Uh… sure," Jace mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "You could get me a sandwich… um…"
"Tuna? Egg? Avocado?"
"Tuna."
Well. One more thing we have in common. That surprised me.
"I'll be back soon," I said and walked off.
The cafeteria smelled like burnt eggs. Students murmured, still half-asleep. Harsh yellow lights made even bright eyes look dull.
I spotted him—Oliver—standing alone. His face was so sour it looked like he had bitten into a rotten tomato.
"Are you okay?" I asked with caution.
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" His reply was as flat as a stone.
I shrugged. "I don't know. Earlier, when you passed by with Jace, you made a face at me."
He looked at me for a few seconds, then said with cold indifference, "I'm fine. And if I weren't, I wouldn't tell a two-year-old."
His eyes flicked in the direction Jace had gone. Get away from him.
"I've told you before—I'm two hundred and seventy-five," I corrected, forcing my tone to be steady.
"Same difference," he muttered with a scoff.
I wanted to reply, but my mouth froze. Oliver smirked. It was one of those easy half-victories he always took without effort.
"That's how I… love you." He hesitated, then hurried to add, "professionally."
"Obviously."
He raised a hand—almost touched my hair. Then pulled back. Looked away.
"I mean—I respect you. That's all."
Something tugged at my chest like an invisible string, stopping my heart mid-beat. Even my breath forgot how to move. His words hung in the air—heavy and soft at the same time.
His eyes shimmered. Maybe with anger. Maybe with jealousy. Then he shrugged, like he regretted even letting it slip.
Back off.
But my body wouldn't move. Somewhere between retreat and the desperate urge to stay. Because if I stepped away, maybe he'd go back to being the Oliver I knew. And I… I needed to believe that that moment of softness wasn't a mistake.
"You… love me?" I asked, shock breaking through my voice.
"Ever heard of a metaphor?" He smiled, just a little. But my heart didn't smile with him.
I know this game. One flash of warmth—then he buries me in ice again.
I feel something for Jace. Something quiet, steady… maybe even real. So why does my heart pound when Oliver gets close?
I'm drawn to Oliver's certainty—but he terrifies me. Jace makes me feel safe. — And still, I keep pulling away.
What if I'm not just confused? What if I'm truly conflicted about choosing between two worlds?
How can I protect them when I can't even hold myself together? If the truth comes out—if they see what I've been hiding, even from me—it won't just break their hearts. It'll shatter them.
I'm not playing with either of them. I'm just trying not to splinter every time someone looks at me like I have the answers.
Oliver stepped too close. My body edged back—just an inch—almost nothing. A slight tremor fluttered through my thigh.
"You're more transparent than you think," he whispered.
The air burned around us—like a spark seconds before an explosion. I felt it. Maybe he did too. But he didn't know how fast the fire in me was spreading.
"Next!"
Reality snapped back.
"Hey—I'll take two tuna sandwiches. And add a hard-boiled egg to one, please."
"Want something to drink?" the cashier asked.
"Yeah. A Coke… and flavored water for me."
"What flavor?"
"Apple—if that's okay."
"Sure."
I grabbed the food and drinks, forced a polite smile, and set my feelings aside. I tried to forget the sour taste of spoiled tomatoes.
But he kept echoing in my chest.
On the way back, the sandwich bag pressed into my palm—but the real weight sat in my heart.
"Thanks," Jace said, sipping his Coke. He took a bite, then looked up.
"What was that with Oliver?"
My eyes snapped to his. "What?"
"I saw you talking to him. What was it about?"
But the question didn't reach his eyes. They stayed dark—too still. His gaze drifted, his fingers toyed with the bottle cap, and his breath was just a little too deep.
His look felt different. Or maybe I imagined it. Maybe he was just worried—like a good friend.
"He seems important to you."
It didn't sound like an accusation. It sounded like a fact.
"I…" My throat tightened. My fingers clenched around the straw.
"Just about class," I said, hurrying to finish my thought. "What else is there to talk about?"
He kept watching me, trying to read me. He leaned back. He furrowed his brows. Looked again.
"It's kind of strange for teachers to be so invested in their students."
"Some teachers are like counselors," I said, my voice low and calm. "They care. With life. Or school. Or whatever."
His eyes dug too deep. My voice slipped. I busied myself with the straw, anything to avoid his gaze.
I almost stood up without meaning to—but I forced myself to stay seated. Running to Oliver? Too easy.
Jace narrowed his eyes. "Do you need help?" he asked in a low voice, glancing from the screen back at me.
And I knew he meant it. Truly. His eyes—quiet, honest.
Then he said, "I care about you, Amelia. And you are running."
Those words froze my soul.
A tremor ran through me. My blood boiled.
I keep repeating he's just a friend—but my heart won't listen.
I'm not playing with them. I don't know how to stay whole when both look at me like I'm supposed to know what to do.
The wind outside picked up. Even the world could feel it—this silence was temporary. Something big was about to fall.
My war? It shows no mercy. And in the end, it only lights up the cracks.
I'm just trying not to bleed when I walk across them.