Echoes of a Silent Beat

Chapter 27: A Real Rollercoaster Ride

As I lay in bed that night, the silence felt like a cosmic joke, amplifying every chaotic thought racing through my head. Seriously, my brain was throwing a wild party, and I was the unwilling guest.

Damn, I've been here before! Everything seemed to be happening again, just like before. Everything's spinning in a dizzying loop of confusion, and I can't escape the mental hamster wheel.

Should I do what I did in the past? Should I just accept that I'm forever in the "just a friend" zone, offering my support while stuffing my feelings into a closet marked "emotional baggage"? Or do I take a leap off the emotional cliff and stand by my feelings, even if it means a potential free-fall into the unknown? The dilemma's driving me nuts.

I kept replaying the moments with Lexie like a broken record—our laughter, our closeness, that almost-kiss that felt like a cosmic "maybe." The thoughts clashed and swirled like a tornado in my brain, leaving me stuck in an endless loop of self-doubt.

And despite all this mental chaos, I ended up doing the exact opposite of what I needed. I turned into the ultimate avoider, retreating into my personal safety bubble rather than diving headfirst into the mess. It's like a bad romantic comedy where the protagonist avoids confrontation and ends up looking ridiculous.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was fundamentally unfair. Maybe what I wanted this time was to actually feel some reciprocation. Maybe I was just tired of always being the one who chases and makes the effort, while the other person seems blissfully unaware.

I'm not blaming her—she doesn't owe me anything, and I get that. But seriously, it felt like we had something more than just a simple admiration. There was a real spark, a genuine connection that was too intense to ignore. And yet, despite everything that had happened between us, here I am again, stuck in the role of "just another friend."

It's like the universe is playing a cruel joke on me.

According to Freud, avoidance is a refusal to deal with problems, a defense mechanism designed to protect our sanity. But guess what? It's driving me even crazier. This so-called "sanity-saving" tactic isn't working at all. It's like trying to ignore a storm while it tears through your house—eventually, you're going to have to face it.

And so the day came when I had to face it.

"Hey, Trish. How's work? You seem really busy these days."

Lexie's message popped up on my screen after countless attempts to seem preoccupied, dodging her invitations to hang out. To be honest, it felt a bit cruel of her. Why would she think I'd want to keep watching her and Ethan flirt right in front of me? The reminders of what we could have been—or at least what I thought we might have been—were just too much.

I hesitated before typing out a response, the familiar pang of frustration creeping in. Did I want to be honest about how her cheerful messages only made the situation harder? Or did I just want to brush it off and pretend everything was fine?

I took a deep breath and decided on a middle ground. "Hey, Lexie. Work's been pretty hectic, but I'm managing. Sorry I've been MIA—just trying to keep up with everything."

I hit send and stared at the screen, waiting for her reply. Part of me hoped she'd pick up on the subtext, that maybe she'd realize I was struggling with seeing her move on so easily.

Right after work, I was ready to head home, but as I walked toward my car, I saw Lexie standing there, waiting for me.

"Can we talk?" she asked, her voice heavy with unspoken emotion.

We got inside the car, and the atmosphere felt dense, almost suffocating. Lexie's face looked like she was on the brink of tears, but she didn't say a word.