Chapter Ten
The Moment I Stopped Pretending
I should have stayed away.
That was the only thought that made sense as I walked, my steps faster than usual, my mind louder than I wanted, filled with questions I could not answer and a truth I was getting too close to.
He was hiding something.
That much was clear.
And she knew it.
That was worse.
Because it meant I was the only one standing in the middle of something I did not understand, something I had already stepped into without realizing how deep it went.
"You look like you are running."
Lila's voice came from beside me, calm but sharp, and I slowed slightly, just enough for her to catch up fully.
"I am not running."
"You are."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am not."
She glanced at me, her expression unreadable for a moment before she sighed.
"What happened this time?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"That is not true."
"It is."
"It is not."
I said nothing.
Because explaining this would mean saying things out loud that I was not ready to hear.
"You saw them again," she said.
I did not respond.
That was enough.
"Who is she?" Lila asked.
"I do not know."
"That is becoming a problem."
"It is not."
"It is."
"It is not."
"It is."
I exhaled slowly, my fingers tightening slightly around my bag, grounding myself before this turned into something I could not control.
"He said I would not understand," I said quietly.
Lila's steps slowed.
"That is not something you say unless there is something to hide."
"I know."
"Then why are you still going back?"
I hesitated.
That was my mistake.
"Exactly," she said softly.
"I am not going back," I said.
"You are."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am not."
"You are."
I looked away.
Because she was right.
And I hated that.
---
I tried to avoid him.
For the rest of the day, I stayed where I did not need to think, where I did not need to see him, where I could pretend this was still something I could walk away from.
It did not work.
Because avoiding him did not mean I stopped thinking about him.
If anything, it made it worse.
Every question grew louder.
Every moment replayed.
Every word he did not say mattered more than the ones he did.
"You are not ready."
The words stayed.
And I did not like what they meant.
---
I should not have gone there.
I knew that before I even reached the path.
I knew it with every step.
And yet, I did not stop.
Because this was no longer about him noticing me.
It was about me needing answers.
And I was done pretending I did not.
The path was quiet.
Still.
The same as always.
But this time, I did not hesitate.
"You came back."
His voice was calm.
Expected.
Like he knew I would.
"I need answers," I said.
No denial.
No excuses.
Just truth.
Something shifted in his expression.
Not much.
But enough.
"I told you," he said quietly, "you are not ready."
"That is not your decision."
"It is when it involves me."
"It does not."
"It does."
"It does not."
"It does."
I stepped closer.
Not careful.
Not hesitant.
For the first time, I did not hold back.
"Then stop deciding for me," I said.
Silence.
He watched me.
Carefully.
Like this was different.
Like I was different.
"You are not walking away this time," he said.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I want to know."
The words settled between us.
Clear.
Unavoidable.
And for the first time, there was no space to pretend.
"This is not simple," he said.
"I know."
"You will not like it."
"That is not your decision."
"It is when it affects you."
"It already does."
Silence.
Again.
But this time, it felt like something was about to break.
"You should not be involved in this," he said.
"I already am."
"You do not understand how."
"Then explain it."
He looked at me.
Really looked.
And for the first time, something in his gaze felt uncertain.
Not calm.
Not controlled.
Something else.
Something I had not seen before.
"You need to stay away from her," he said.
"No."
The word came faster than I expected.
Stronger.
Clearer.
And it surprised both of us.
"That is not an option," he said.
"It is."
"It is not."
"It is."
"It is not."
"I am not afraid of her."
"You should be."
The words were quiet.
But they hit harder than anything else.
"Why?" I asked.
Silence.
Again.
And this time, it was worse.
Because now, it felt like the answer mattered more than anything.
"Tell me," I said.
"I cannot."
"You will not."
"I cannot."
"You will not."
"I cannot."
Frustration built quickly, sharper now, stronger, pushing past the control I had been holding onto from the beginning.
"This is exactly what she meant," I said. "You think I do not understand because you will not let me."
"That is not it."
"Then what is it?"
He stepped closer.
Closer than before.
And this time, I did not step back.
Because I was done running.
"You are already in this," he said quietly.
"I know."
"No," his voice lowered slightly, "you do not."
My chest tightened.
"Then make me understand."
Silence.
He looked at me.
Longer this time.
Like he was deciding something important.
Something final.
"You should not have come back today," he said.
"That is not an answer."
"It is."
"It is not."
"It is."
I shook my head, frustration and something deeper mixing in a way I could not separate anymore.
"You keep doing that," I said. "You say things without saying anything."
"I am trying to keep you out of it."
"It is too late for that."
"Yes," he said quietly, "it is."
The words stopped me.
Because something about them felt final.
Like a line had already been crossed.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
He did not answer.
Again.
And this time, I felt it clearly.
That shift.
That moment where everything changes.
Before I could say anything else, before I could push further, before I could get the answer I came for,
a voice cut through the silence.
"You really could not stay away."
Her.
I turned.
She was standing there again.
Closer than before.
Watching both of us.
But this time, her attention stayed on me.
Not him.
Me.
"You should have listened," she said quietly.
"To what?" I asked.
"To me."
"That is not an answer."
"It is."
"It is not."
"It is."
She took a step closer.
And something about the way she moved made everything feel sharper.
More dangerous.
"He told you to stay away, did he not?" she asked.
I said nothing.
That was enough.
Her gaze softened slightly.
But not in a way that felt kind.
More like understanding.
And that was worse.
"You think this is about him," she said.
"It is."
"It is not."
"It is."
"It is not."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
And then she said the one thing that changed everything.
"This started before you."
My chest tightened.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
She held my gaze.
Steady.
Unmoving.
And for the first time, I felt it clearly.
The truth was close.
Too close.
"It means," she said quietly, "you are already too late."
The words settled.
Sharp.
Unavoidable.
And in that moment, I understood something I could not ignore anymore.
This was not just something I stepped into.
This was something I was already caught in.
And whatever it was, it was not going to let me walk away.
End of Chapter Ten