Unspoken Goals

Awkward

November 1st

The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting soft, golden streaks across Abigail's bed. The room was steeped in stillness, broken only by the quiet, steady rhythm of her breath intertwined with Juliette's. For a fleeting moment, everything felt normal, like they hadn't been avoiding each other for weeks or Abigail didn't just get cheated on. But as consciousness returned, so did the tension and heartbreak, like a weight settling back onto their chests.

Abigail stirred first, her eyes fluttering open to find herself still nestled against Juliette. The rise and fall of Juliette's chest beneath her cheek was a comfort she hadn't realized she still craved. But the warmth of the embrace was tinged with bitterness, the memory of last night crashing back in a wave that made her tense. Almost instinctively, Juliette's arm tightened around her, as if even in sleep she could sense Abigail's distress, unwilling to let her go.

A few minutes later, Juliette's eyes blinked open, the haze of sleep gradually clearing as she took in their position. Reality hit with a dull thud, but she didn't pull away immediately, letting the moment linger, wanting to hold onto the fragile peace for just a bit longer. When she finally did shift, it was with a gentleness the spoke of care, her gaze searching Abigail's face, hoping for a clue to how she was feeling after the events that occurred last night. "Morning," Juliette murmured, her voice rough with sleep.

Abigail tried to muster a smile, but it faltered, never quite reaching her eyes. "Morning."

An awkward silence stretched between them, thick with the tension that had been lingering for weeks. Juliette's mind raced with thoughts, wanting desperately to comfort Abigail, but the unresolved tension between them made everything feel stifling. The fight that had driven a wedge between them weeks ago hung in the air, making it hard for Juliette to find the right words. How do you reach out to someone who's heartbroken when your own friendship feels fractured? How do you offer comfort when you're not sure where you stand anymore?

Juliette sighed, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her as she slowly sat up, running a hand through her tangled hair. "I should probably get ready for the day," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, avoiding Abigail's gaze.

Abigail nodded, though her heart sank as she watched Juliette slip out of the bed. She wanted to reach out, to ask her to stay, to confess that Juliette's presence was the only thing keeping her grounded, but the fear of rejection held her back.

Juliette hesitated at the door, her hand hovering over the knob as if wrestling with an internal battle. Finally, she turned back, her gaze softened by a tenderness she rarely allowed herself to show. "If you need anything... I'm here," she said, her voice carrying and earnestness that made Abigail's chest tighten.

"Thanks, Jules," Abigail whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

For a brief moment, their eyes locked, a flicker of the old connection passing between them, but it quickly faded as Juliette turned away. The door closed with a soft click, leaving Abigail alone in the quiet room. The silence was suffocating, amplifying the ache in her chest. She exhaled a shaky breath, the weight of her heartbreak pressing down on her, but it was the gnawing sense of losing Juliette that hurt the most.

---

The day passed in a blur, a haze of hours that Abigail barely noticed. She moved through the motions—leaving her room only for necessities, avoiding eye contact, and sinking back into the comfort of her bed as quickly as possible. The world outside felt distant, her emotions dulled by the weight of everything that had happened. Juliette, uncertain whether to give her space or offer comfort, kept her distance. They orbited each other like distant planets, their paths intersecting briefly in the shared spaces of their apartment, but with no words exchanged.