Chapter 20 – Ellie
Troya pulls me aside at work, and the second I see her face, my stomach tightens.
She looks nervous — too nervous — like she’s about to confess something she’s been holding in for too long.
Her eyes flicker around the café before landing on me, and she twists her apron string so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t tear.
“Ellie… I don’t want to make things weird,” she says, voice small, “but I think Oliver might like me.”
I freeze.
For a moment, I actually wait for her to laugh.
To say she’s joking.
To say she meant something else.
But she doesn’t.
“He looks at me sometimes,” she continues softly. “Like… a lot. I just thought you should know.”
My throat goes dry.
My stomach drops.
My heart stumbles.
I force a smile — small, tight, fake — and nod like it doesn’t hurt.
Like my heart isn’t suddenly beating too fast.
Like the floor didn’t just tilt under my feet.
“Oh,” I manage. “Thanks for telling me.”
I go back to work, but her words echo in my head, over and over.
I think Oliver might like me.
He looks at me sometimes.
I tell myself not to overthink.
But I do.
God, I do.
All afternoon, I watch them.
Troya talking.
Oliver nearby, quiet and stiff.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing obvious.
But every time she laughs, he looks away.
Every time she walks past him, he tenses.
Every time she brushes her hair back, he blinks too fast.
And I can’t stop wondering.
Can’t stop feeling that sharp, ugly twist in my chest.
He’s been acting weird lately.
Distant.
Secretive.
Hiding his phone.
Zoning out.
Smiling at nothing.
I hate that I notice.
I hate that I care this much.
I hate that my brain is already filling in the blanks with the worst possible answers.
Later, Oliver leaves his phone on the counter while he goes to the back.
It buzzes.
I don’t mean to look.
I swear I don’t.
But the screen lights up right in front of me, and my eyes catch the name before I can stop myself.
Troya:
“When do you want to meet up?”
And a wink emoji?
A wink.
A wink.
My chest tightens like I can’t breathe.
My hands go cold.
My breath catches.
My vision blurs for a second.
I feel like the floor tilts under me.
Why is she texting him?
Why didn’t he tell me?
Why is there a wink?
I pick up his phone — not to snoop, just to hand it back — but my fingers are shaking so badly I almost drop it.
When he comes back, I try to sound normal.
I fail.
“Why is Troya texting you?”
He freezes.
Completely.
Like he’s been caught.
His eyes flicker — fear? guilt? something else? I can’t tell.
I don’t want to assume.
I want him to explain.
He doesn’t.
“I… I can’t tell you,” he says quietly.
That’s it.
No reassurance.
No honesty.
No “Ellie, it’s not what you think.”
Just silence.
And that silence hurts more than anything.
I wait.
I give him a chance.
I hope he’ll say something — anything — that makes this make sense.
He doesn’t.
Something inside me cracks — small at first, then loud, then all at once. Like glass under too much pressure.
I love him.
God, I love him.
But I can’t stay with someone who keeps secrets.
Someone who makes me feel small.
Someone who won’t choose honesty when it matters.
So I step back.
And I end it.
My voice shakes, but I don’t cry.
Not in front of him.
Not when he’s looking at me with those wide, broken eyes.
Oliver looks like I’ve just taken the air out of his lungs.
He opens his mouth like he wants to explain — but nothing comes out.
Nothing.
And that hurts too.
Because if he really loved me… wouldn’t he fight?
Wouldn’t he try?
I walk away before I can change my mind.
He tries to call later.
Tries to text.
But I can’t read the messages.
I can’t hear his voice.
I can’t risk being wrong again.
So, I block him.
And when I finally sit on my bed that night, the silence hits me like a wave. Heavy.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
I whisper into the quiet:
“I thought love was supposed to feel safe.”
The tears come then — slow, heavy, unstoppable.
They soak my pillow.
My shirt.
My hands.
I curl into myself, shaking, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest.
Trying to understand how everything went wrong so fast.
Trying to understand why it hurts this much.
All I know is heartbreak.
And the silence between us feels final.
I don’t know how to come back from this.
I don’t know if I can.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe love is just another word for learning how to lose things.