ADDICTED

17.The call

Chapter 17

One night, as I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the silence around me was broken by the sharp buzz of my phone.

My heart raced, and for a moment, I thought I had imagined it. But no it buzzed again. I grabbed the phone, my fingers trembling as I checked the screen.

It was Bema.

I hesitated before answering, my mind racing. Why was she calling now? What had changed? I pressed the answer button and brought the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" My voice came out shakier than I intended.

"Hi," Bema's voice was soft on the other end, almost hesitant. "I'm sorry... I know it's been a while."

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. "Yeah, it has. I've been waiting to hear from you."

"I know," she sighed. "Things have been... complicated. School, my mom, everything. I couldn't... I just couldn't talk."

Her words offered some relief, but not enough. "I understand, but Bema, you didn't say anything. You left me in the dark."

There was a pause, the silence between us heavy. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way," she said finally. "I've missed you, I really have.

But things got out of control, and I couldn't deal with it."

I wanted to believe her, to accept that her silence had nothing to do with me, but the uncertainty lingered. "Is it... is it us? Are we okay?"

"I don't know," she said softly. "I think about us a lot, but I don't have all the answers right now."

Her words felt like a knife twisting in my gut, but I didn't want to push her away. Not now. "I just need to know that you're still with me," I whispered. "I don't care about anything else, Bema. I just need to know."

"I am," she replied, almost immediately. "I promise I am."

A sense of relief washed over me, but it wasn't complete. The conversation ended soon after, both of us tiptoeing around the real issues, too afraid to dig too deep.

But at least I had heard from her, and that was something. For now, it would have to be enough.

The next day, I confided in my closest friend, Kwame, as we sat under a tree during break. He was always the one I could talk to about Bema, the one who didn't judge me for how much I cared.

"So, she finally called, huh?" Kwame said, tossing a small stone across the yard.

"Yeah, but I don't know how to feel. She said she missed me, but it's like... I still don't have any answers."

Kwame shrugged. "Girls can be like that, bro. They need time to figure things out. But if she says she's still with you, then that's a good sign, right?"

"I guess," I said, though I wasn't entirely convinced.

"You're just overthinking it," Kwame added. "Give her some space, but don't give up."

As the days passed, I tried to focus on my studies and push the lingering doubts aside. Bema and I exchanged a few texts here and there, but the connection wasn't the same. I still felt like I was grasping at something that was slipping away.

Then, one evening, a message came through that reignited my hope:

"I miss you more than I can explain."

Those words. They were simple, but they hit me hard. It was like a lifeline, pulling me out of the pit of doubt I had been stuck in.
Maybe things weren't perfect, but she still felt something for me. Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to where we were.

I sent her a message back, telling her how much I missed her too, how I couldn't wait for the next break so we could see each other again.

For the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope.

But the uncertainty wasn't gone. The guys at school kept talking, and their words crept into my mind. They told me not to get too attached, that girls in high school never stayed loyal.

"Why are you wasting time on one girl?" one of them teased. "You should be enjoying yourself, man. Plenty of fish in the sea."

I laughed it off, but deep down, I wondered if they were right.
Was I wasting my time being loyal to someone who wasn't even fully committed to me?

The term dragged on, and the days without hearing from Bema started to blur together. I felt trapped in a cycle of waiting for her to reach out, waiting for the next break when I might get some clarity. Every night, I'd stare at my phone, hoping for a call, a message, anything to reassure me.

As the term came to an end, I found myself at a crossroads. Should I keep holding on to this fragile hope, or was it time to face reality and move on?

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