Under the Stars

Chapter 15

~CHAPTER FIFTEEN~

Tuesday, December 17, 2024

   As the school year progresses, Christmas is near and to be honest I find myself struggling to reach out to Lyla, who responds with increasing grumpiness and frustration.

ғʟᴀsʜʙᴀᴄᴋ;

Friday, October 4, 2024;

“Hey, do you feel okay now?” I ask, leaning against her locker.

No response.

“Hey, Lyla~” I say in a sing-song tone.

“Shut up, will you? Just leave me alone. I don’t want you near in my life, okay? The project is done. And thank you for what you did yesterday, but let’s just cut things between us, please?” She told me coldly.

I blinked, taken aback by her harsh words. “Lyla, I just—”

“I mean it, Carl. Stay away from me.” She slammed her locker shut and walked away without looking back.

I stood there, stunned and hurt. But something in me refused to accept her words. I knew there was more to it, something she wasn’t saying.

Every month, I tried to reach out. I’d leave notes in her locker, send her messages, try to catch her after class. But she avoided me at every turn. I’d see her in the hallways, her eyes blank and distant, and my heart ached.

One day, I found her sitting alone in the library, buried in a book. I approached cautiously. “Hey.”

She looked up, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—regret, maybe? But it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand, Carl?”

“Lyla, please. Just talk to me. I know something’s wrong. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

She shook her head, her expression hardening. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. Just leave me alone.”

But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I cared too much to let her push me away. Every month, I kept trying, hoping that one day she’d let me back in.

   I hurried through the crowded hallway, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Lyla again. Ever since our encounter with her mother, she had been distant and irritable, pushing me away with sharp words and cold silences.

  I spotted her leaning against her locker, a scowl etched on her face as she avoided eye contact with passing students. Approaching cautiously, unsure of how she would react today, I make her some sandwiches because she looks so pale.

“Lyla,” I began tentatively, “I brought you some sandwich.”

Lyla glanced up, her expression guarded. “Don’t you ever get tired Stevans?” she snapped, her tone biting with frustration. “Can you just please leave me alone? I’m not in the mood.”

  I hesitated, hurt by her harsh words but determined not to give up. Because love is patient and understanding. Right?

“I know you’re going through a lot,” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice steady. “But shutting me out won’t make it any easier.”