Chapter 3: Things I Can’t Unfeel

Elle’s Point of View

Anywhere I don’t have to watch you lie to yourself.

Aiden’s words echoed like thunder in a room that had gone too still.

I stood frozen in the kitchen, Liam only a step away, but somehow I’d never felt more distant from him than I did now. My hands were still wet from rinsing the plate, but I didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Liam scratched the back of his neck. “He’s dramatic, huh?”

I didn’t answer.

Because deep down, I knew Aiden wasn’t being dramatic.

He was being right.

Liam glanced at me. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know,” I lied.

But I did know.

And maybe that’s what scared me most—how much I was starting to understand Aiden without needing explanations.

Liam stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Is something going on between you two?”

That stopped me cold.

I turned to face him, blinking like he’d slapped me. “You mean like how something wasn’t going on between us for years?”

His face fell.

“I didn’t mean—”

“You asked me to help you get over someone else, Liam.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it trembled. “I did that. I smiled, I laughed, I held it together. But you don’t get to act jealous now.”

“I’m not jealous,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “I just… I didn’t think you’d start falling for him.”

The word “falling” made my chest tighten.

I wasn’t even sure if that’s what was happening.

But the fact that I didn’t deny it? That was answer enough.

“I didn’t plan it,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said, eyes softer now. “I know you didn’t. And maybe that’s the problem.”

I looked at him, at the boy I used to dream about. The boy I stayed up for. Wrote about. Loved in silence.

And suddenly, he just looked… young.

Still beautiful. Still familiar. But no longer the version of home I wanted to run to.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I asked quietly. “About him. About how he—”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his shoes. “I knew.”

“Then why?” I asked. “Why ask me to help you fall for someone else?”

He looked up then, and I saw it—all of it. Guilt. Sadness. Something close to surrender.

“Because I couldn’t love you the way you deserved,” he said. “And Aiden… he always did. He just never thought he had the right to show it.”

The room went quiet.

And I felt it—this soft, terrible ache in my chest.

It wasn’t heartbreak.

It was letting go.

I nodded slowly, tears stinging but not falling. “Thank you… for finally saying it.”

Liam stepped forward, like he wanted to hug me. But he didn’t.

And I didn’t move.

Because we both knew this was the end of something.

And maybe… the beginning of something else.

He didn’t hug me.

And I didn’t move.

We just stood there—two people who used to dream in the same direction, now staring at the cracks between us.

Liam finally stepped back, rubbing a hand over his face like he was trying to wake up from something heavier than sleep.

“I’m sorry, Elle.”

I nodded, but it didn’t fix anything. Not really.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” I said, voice tight. “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t.”

He flinched a little, and for once, I didn’t rush to soften it.

Didn’t offer to make him feel better for breaking me gently.

“I just wanted to protect what we had,” he said quietly.

“And I wanted to believe that was enough,” I replied.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.

It was honest.

The kind of silence you can’t dress up or disguise.

I walked past him and into the hallway, grabbing my bag off the hook. My heart thudded louder with every step, but it felt like forward motion. Like freedom, even if it hurt.

“Where are you going?” he asked behind me.

I paused at the door, fingers gripping the knob. “Home.”

“You don’t want to stay for dinner? Mom’s making—”

“Liam.” I looked back at him, and this time I didn’t smile.

“I need space. Not dinner.”

He didn’t argue.

He just watched me go.

And maybe that was the clearest answer of all.

Outside, the sky had darkened. The breeze carried the scent of cold pavement and distant rain, and for once, I didn’t try to outrun the ache in my chest. I let it settle. Let it bloom and burn and tell me the truth:

Liam was never mine.

And somehow, that didn’t feel like the end anymore.

It felt like the beginning of something I hadn’t let myself want.

Something quieter. Fiercer.

Something that looked like Aiden.

Outside, the air bit at my skin.

I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, not because of the cold—but because something inside me felt raw. Open. Like a wound I’d been pretending wasn’t bleeding.

Each step away from Liam’s front door felt like a closing chapter.

The kind you don’t flip back to.

The kind that still leaves fingerprints long after it’s done.

I didn’t cry.

That surprised me.

Maybe because I’d already done my grieving—in every birthday he forgot, in every glance that slid past me, in every “You’re my best friend” when I wanted more.

Maybe you don’t cry when you stop chasing someone.

Maybe you just breathe for the first time.

Scene Shift — The Bookstore

I didn’t go straight home.

Instead, I wandered into the little bookstore on Maple—the one with crooked shelves and sleepy jazz playing overhead. I used to come here with Liam when we were kids, but now I just… came here alone.

It was empty, except for the usual guy behind the counter who never looked up.

I drifted through the poetry section, fingers grazing the spines of books I couldn’t afford but always wanted to.

Then, I heard it—quiet footsteps. Steady. Heavy.

I turned, already knowing.

Aiden.

He didn’t say anything.

Just walked down the aisle and stopped across from me, no shelf between us.

His hoodie was damp, hair still wind-tossed, hands tucked in his jacket. His eyes? Not stormy this time. Just tired. Like mine.

“You always run here when things fall apart?” he asked.

I gave a weak laugh. “And you always show up when they do?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m just good at reading the signs.”

I didn’t argue. Because it was true. He always showed up.

When Liam forgot.

When I fell apart quietly.

When no one else noticed.

“I told him,” I said finally. “I told Liam I needed space.”

Aiden nodded once, but he didn’t look away. “And how did that feel?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Like exhaling after holding my breath for too long.”

He gave me a look—just a flicker of something real in his eyes. Admiration? Relief? I wasn’t sure.

But then he stepped closer.

Not touching.

Just near enough.

“You don’t owe him loyalty when he didn’t give you clarity.”

My breath hitched. “You always say stuff like that?”

He smirked. “No. Just to you.”

I looked away, pretending to study the cracked spine of a Neruda collection.

“You make it hard to forget you,” I whispered.

And I felt him freeze.

Not dramatically. Just... enough to know I’d said something real.

“You’re not supposed to forget me,” he replied.

Scene Shift — Late That Night

Back home, I sat on my bed with the lights off, wrapped in my blanket like it could keep the ache out.

But it was already inside me.

I thought about the rooftop.

The eggs.

The swing set.

The quiet moments where Aiden didn’t say what I wanted to hear—he said what I needed to.

And suddenly, Liam’s absence didn’t hurt the way it used to.

It was Aiden’s silence I noticed now.

His quiet.

His leaving.

His distance.

And the way it made me want to follow—for the first time, not because I was chasing someone...

but because he made me feel found.