Now the silence felt unbearable.
I walked into the living room and sank heavily onto the couch, running both hands through my hair as I leaned forward.
A long, heavy sigh escaped my chest.
I had gone to her house believing something completely different. I had imagined we would talk. I had imagined we would acknowledge what had happened between us. I had imagined we would figure out what came next together.
I closed my eyes.
I felt something for her. Something real. Something deeper than friendship.
But that did not mean she had to feel the same. Just because I was ready for her, ready for us to become something more, did not mean she was standing in the same place emotionally.
I understood that. Yet the frustration refused to leave me.
Because I knew I was not wrong.
I had seen it. Instead, I had walked straight into a wall.
In my anger, I had raised my voice. The memory of it made my stomach twist again. Was I right to do that?
I had seen the same flash of emotion reflect in her eyes that lived inside my own chest.
The desire.
The want.
The quiet longing neither of us had ever said out loud.
Those moments had existed between us long before last night.
She had felt it too.
I was certain of it.
Jiya was holding on to something. Some invisible wall stood between her heart and the rest of the world, and no matter how close I came, she refused to let me see what was behind it.
But what was it? What was she so afraid of?
Could it be Emma’s father?The possibility struck me like a punch.
A wave of nausea rose.
I pushed myself off the couch and walked quickly to the bathroom.Leaning over the sink, my stomach heaved as the emotional storm inside me spilled over physically.When it finally stopped, I stood there breathing heavily, gripping the edge of the counter.
My emotions were everywhere.
Anger.
Frustration.
Hurt.
Hope.
Everything collided together inside my chest until it was almost impossible to sort through.
I knew Jiya felt something for me.
