MELODY
...

The past three days have felt like an eternity. Every call to Steph has gone unanswered, every text left on read.

I know her well enough to recognize when she's avoiding me, but knowing doesn't make it hurt any less. The ache in my chest is constant now, dull and unrelenting, like a bruise that refuses to heal.

On the third day, I decide I've had enough. I get a cab to her apartment, half expecting her to be there, half hoping I'm wrong. When I knock, there's no answer.

"Steph?" I call out, pressing my ear to the door. Silence.

I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe her familiar laugh, telling me she forgot her phone in another room, or the door opening to reveal her looking just as lost as I feel. Instead, I'm met with nothing.

I call Amber next. She picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, Amber. Is Steph with you?" I try to sound casual, but the tightness in my throat betrays me.

"Uh... no," she says slowly. "She's probably at work. I'll remind her to call you."

Her tone is neutral, but there's something in it that makes me feel like she knows more than she's letting on. I thank her anyway and hang up.

It's all just basic hell.

The hours drag by, each one heavier than the last. I replay every moment between us in my head, searching for clues, for answers, for something that will make this all make sense.

I tell myself she's just busy, that I'm overthinking, but the doubt gnaws at me and I know my gut feeling is right.

On the fifth day, she finally calls. The sound of her voice should bring relief after five fucking days but instead, it feels distant.

"Hey," she says, her tone is too light, too casual like ghosting me is okay.

"Hey yourself," I reply, gripping the phone tighter. "Where have you been?"

"I've been busy," she says, and I can hear the shrug in her voice. "Work's been crazy."

I bite back the urge to snap. "Busy avoiding me, you mean."

There's a pause, just long enough to confirm what I already know.

"Mel, I'm not avoiding you. I've just been... preoccupied. Actually, that's why I'm calling. I wanted to let you know I'm out of town for a few days. Outreach activity at the clinic."

The words hit me like a slap. "You're out of town?" I parrot.

"Yeah," she says and I pick up a female giggle in the background. My stomach drops.

"And you didn't think to tell me?" My voice rises despite myself.

"I didn't see the point," she says, her tone clipped.

"The point?" I echo, my frustration boiling over. "Steph, we haven't talked in days, and now you're telling me you're out of town? How is that not important?"

"I don't have to check in with you every time I make a decision," she says, her voice icy.

I'm taken aback but I recover just in time.

"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it," I snap. "I'm saying you should've told me because I care about you, and I want to know what's going on in your life."

The line goes quiet for a moment, and I can hear her breathing, slow and measured, like she's trying to stay calm. That female voice is now saying something I can't get. Too muffled over my thumping heart.

"Mel, I don't want to argue about this," she says finally.

"Of course, you don't," I say bitterly. "You never want to talk about anything."

"That's not fair," she says, her voice sharp.

"Isn't it?"

The conversation spirals from there, each word cutting deeper than the last. By the time we hang up, I'm left staring at my phone, my chest tight and my hands shaking.

God, how does she piss me off this much?

***

The next week is no better. We talk, but it's strained, every conversation tinged with frustration and hurt.

The warmth that once filled our interactions has been replaced by a coldness that neither of us knows how to melt.

Every argument feels like a step further away from what we once shared, and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to bring us back to the place we were before.

By the end of the week, I'm exhausted. Emotionally, mentally, physically. I can't keep fighting for something that Steph doesn't seem willing to fight for, and I can't keep pretending that everything is fine when it's not.

That evening, I sit on the couch with Jeremiah, my arms wrapped around my knees as I stare blankly at the TV. He's been quiet, giving me space, but I can feel his concern with each passing day.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice gentle.

I shake my head. "No. I'm not."

I don't know why I'm telling him this but he is here and I'm going to combust if I don't speak.

He turns to face me, his expression serious. "Talk to me."

I take a deep breath, the words spilling out before I can stop them. "I think I'm done. With Steph, with all of this. It's just... it's not working."

Jeremiah's brow furrows. His first instinct is to probably tease me about finally admitting to having a thing for her but something on my face must keep him from doing that.

Now's not the time.

"Mel, are you sure? It's only been like what, days? Maybe you just need more time."

"Time won't fix this," I say, my voice trembling. "She doesn't want what I want. She doesn't want to give this a real shot. And I can't keep putting myself out there just to get hurt."

He's silent for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "So, what now?"

"I think I'm going back to Hilton," I say firmly. "There's nothing for me here anymore."

He exhales but keeps his calm.
"You're okay now. You could start school here, build a life here, even play basketball again. You don't have to go back there."

He says it like the image of the place itself disgusts him. Understandable much.

"I don't have a reason to stay," I say, my voice breaking.

Jeremiah reaches out, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You don't need a reason to stay, Mel. You can be your own reason. You've fought so hard to get to this point. Don't throw it all away because of a broken heart."

His words linger in the air, heavy and undeniable. But the truth is, my heart feels like it's been shattered into a million pieces, and I don't know how to put it back together.

Why am I letting Steph fo this to me? Why is she doing this to me?

"I'll think about it," I say, though I know my mind is already made up.

But Jeremiah is right: I need to start putting myself first. Even if it means walking away from the person I thought I'd never let go of.