Diya knew she couldn't avoid everyone forever.
So that morning, she wore her most practiced smile—the one that looked perfect, the one that fooled even her. She walked to class with a calm rhythm, head high, eyes alert.
And then she saw them.
Maddy. Harsh. A couple of their friends, laughing about something she couldn't hear.
She straightened her back, pushed a little more sparkle into her expression, and greeted them casually.
"Hey, guys."
They responded with smiles and waves. Just as she was about to walk past them, Maddy looked up, his tone softer than it had been in days. "Diya… can we talk?"
She paused only briefly. "After class," she replied, still smiling, still collected. "I'll see you near the block."
He nodded. She walked away.
And Maddy watched her go with a heavy feeling in his chest.
He hated this distance. Hated the silence he'd created, the walls they were now speaking through. He wanted to talk to her properly, to explain why he'd said what he did—or at least try. But every time he opened his mouth, the words failed him. He wasn't used to this kind of vulnerability. He didn't know how to fix something so delicate without breaking it further.
After class, she met him by the block.
They sat on the stone bench, shaded by a tree. Maddy had rehearsed what he was going to say, but her calm presence unraveled him. She wasn't angry. That made it harder.
She wasn't anything.
She was smiling.
Not like before—just enough to tell him she had built a wall he couldn't climb.
The silence between them stretched, tense and brittle.
"If there's nothing," she said at last, voice steady, "I have work. I should go."
He panicked a little. "I'm sorry. For shouting at you… in front of everyone."
Diya was silent for a moment. Then she looked at him, that same bright, gentle smile on her face.
"It's okay. If that's what this is about, there's nothing to worry."
But there was everything to worry about.
Maddy watched her closely. "How… how are you feeling now?" he asked. "Health-wise, I mean."
"Same as always," she said lightly. "I'm okay."
She stood up, brushing her palms against her jeans. "I should get going. My roommate needs me."
She turned to leave, waving casually. "Bye, Maddy."
And just like that, she was gone.
Maddy stayed seated, staring ahead.
She hadn't even looked at him the way she used to. No flicker of softness. No silent conversation in her eyes.
He'd broken something.
He knew it.
And the worst part? She was doing exactly what he'd told her to—moving on, letting go, not holding onto false hope.
He just hadn't realized it would feel like this.
Like losing her in slow motion.
And not knowing how to stop it.