Page 24

Carson

The morning started with the kind of quiet peace I only ever felt when I was with her. The scent of lavender and vanilla clung to my sheets, a lingering reminder of her. I reached across the bed, expecting to find her warm, soft presence still tangled in the covers. But my hand met nothing but cool emptiness.

Disappointment settled in my chest as I opened my eyes, scanning the room for any sign of her. My heart sank when I spotted the folded note on the nightstand. Her delicate handwriting greeted me.

I reached for the note, my fingers brushing the paper as if it held a part of her.

Had to run. Don't want to be late for class.

A soft smile tugged at my lips despite the ache of her absence. Even when she wasn't here, she managed to make me feel like I was still wrapped in her warmth. She was the light in every dark corner of my life, and I couldn't help but feel the void she left behind whenever we were apart.

I grabbed my phone, typing out a quick text.

Good morning, angel. Hope you're okay. Can't wait to see you later.

I hit send and waited, fully expecting those three little dots to appear almost instantly. Eve always replied quickly, her texts filled with quirky emojis or sweet words that never failed to make me smile.

But this time, my screen stayed blank.

At first, I brushed it off. She was probably busy getting ready for class, her phone forgotten on her bed or buried in her bag. I told myself there was no reason to worry, that she'd text me as soon as she had a spare moment.

But as the hours crept by, her silence began to feel like a weight pressing against my chest.

I checked my phone obsessively, flipping it over in my hands every few minutes, hoping for the familiar buzz of a notification. Rational explanations tumbled through my mind.

Maybe her phone died. Maybe she was in the middle of a study group. Maybe she just needed a little space.

But no matter how many times I tried to reassure myself, a darker voice whispered in the back of my mind, feeding me every worst-case scenario. What if she wasn't okay? What if something had happened to her? What if I'd done something wrong?

By the time the sun began to sink below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink, I couldn't take it anymore. My stomach was a knot of nerves, my thoughts a whirlwind of worry and frustration.

Grabbing my keys, I practically bolted out the door. The drive to her dorm was a blur, my fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly as my mind raced. What if she didn't want to see me? What if I was overreacting? But what if I wasn't?

The familiar sight of her building came into view, and I parked hastily, my heart pounding in my chest. I buzzed her room, leaning into the intercom.

"Eve, it's me. Can you let me in?"

Nothing.

I pressed the button again, harder this time. "Eve, please. Talk to me."

Still nothing.

Panic flared, hot and unrelenting. I paced in front of the door, running a hand through my hair. A girl passed by, holding the door open behind her as she walked in.

"Thanks," I muttered, darting inside before she could ask any questions.

The stairwell felt endless as I climbed, each step adding to the weight in my chest. By the time I reached her door, my hands were shaking. I knocked once, then twice, the sound echoing down the quiet hallway.

"Eve," I called, my voice rough with worry. "It's me. Open up."

The door creaked open slowly, and there she was.

Her eyes were red and swollen, her face pale. But what struck me immediately—what sent a wave of fury and heartbreak crashing through me—was the faint red mark on her cheek.

"Eve," I said, stepping forward, my voice trembling with raw anger. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

She flinched at my words, instinctively brushing her fingers across her cheek as if trying to hide it. Her eyes darted away from mine, her silence cutting deeper than any answer could.

"Talk to me," I pleaded, my voice softer now. "Whatever it is, I'm here. We'll figure it out together."

She shook her head slightly, her shoulders curling inward as though trying to make herself smaller.

"I can't," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Can't what?" I asked, taking another step closer.

Her lips trembled, and tears welled in her eyes. "I can't do this anymore."

The ground seemed to shift beneath me. "What are you saying?"

"I can't be with you, Carson. I'm sorry."

The words hit like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me. I reached out instinctively, but she stepped back, tears streaming down her face.

"Eve, no. Don't do this. Please, don't do this."

"It's for the best," she said, though her voice cracked with every word.

"No," I said firmly, my own voice breaking. "This isn't for the best. You don't mean this, Eve. Tell me what's going on. Let me help you."

"You can't," she cried, her voice rising with desperation. "You can't fix this, Carson. You just... can't."

I searched her face, my heart shattering as I noticed the way her hands trembled and her breath hitched between sobs. I could see her pain as clearly as if it were written across her skin.

"You don't mean that," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "We're in this together, remember? You and me against the world. Isn't that what you said?"

She shook her head again, her tears falling faster now. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm so, so sorry."

"No," I said, my voice rising. "Don't do this. Don't shut me out. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

"You don't understand," she said, her voice shaking with frustration. "It's not just about us, Carson. It's bigger than that. It's... it's complicated."

"Then explain it to me!" I begged. "Make me understand."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with a pain so deep it made my chest ache. "I can't," she whispered.

A sob wracked through her, and she covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. I wanted to reach out, to pull her into my arms and promise her that everything would be okay. But she stepped back again, putting more distance between us.

"It's over, Carson," she said, her voice barely audible. "I'm sorry."

I stared at her, stunned, the words refusing to sink in. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening.

"I love you," I said, my voice trembling. "Isn't that enough?"

Her hands fell to her sides, and for a moment, I thought she might come back to me. But then she shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," she whispered.

"Harder for who?" I asked, my voice rising with frustration. "You're not even giving me a chance to fix whatever this is."

She turned her face away, her tears falling freely now. "Goodbye, Carson," she said, her voice barely audible

She looked me in my eyes, staring into the deepest parts of soul I had laid out for her, her eyes filled with a sadness that tore me apart. And then, without another word, she stepped back and closed the door. The sound of the lock clicking into place was like a dagger to my chest.

For a moment, there was only silence.

But then, faintly, I heard it. The muffled sound of her sobs through the thin wood of the door, each one piercing my chest like a blade.

Then something deeper—raw and guttural, a scream that seemed to echo her anguish and tear through her soul.

I froze, my hand hovering inches from the door. Every instinct screamed at me to break it down, to pull her into my arms and tell her she didn't have to

face this alone.

But she had made her choice.

And as the sobs continued, broken and relentless, I pressed my forehead against the cold surface, my own tears finally falling.

"Eve," I whispered, my voice trembling with everything I couldn't say.

I stayed there, listening to her heartbreak as my own unraveled, until the silence swallowed us both.

When I finally turned to leave, my legs felt like lead. The walk back to my car was a blur, my mind replaying the conversation over and over, searching for something I could've said to change her mind.

By the time I reached my car, my hands were trembling. My chest ached with the weight of everything unsaid, of everything I couldn't fix. And as I sat there, staring at the steering wheel, one thought consumed me.

I had lost her, and I didn't know if I would ever get her back again.