The Girl Who Was Supposed to Die (GirlXGirl)

Chapter 49: Reconciliation

The following week felt like a cold, gray cloud hanging over my heart. Each passing day without Marie was a punch in the gut, a constant reminder of what I'd nearly lost. I found myself sitting alone on the sidelines during soccer practice, my mind replaying that fucking moment when Aaliyah's lips brushed against mine and the look of hurt in Marie's eyes. The laughter and camaraderie of my teammates faded into a dull hum, and the thrill of the game felt distant, eclipsed by a gnawing sense of regret.

I could still feel the warmth of Marie's laughter, the sound that used to lift my spirits and drown out the bullshit noise in my head. But now, that laughter felt like a ghost, haunting me in the quiet moments when I was left alone with my thoughts. The vibrant green field, which had always been my sanctuary, became a landscape of missed opportunities and unspoken words. My usually sharp focus on the game was gone, replaced by a haze of confusion and longing. I could no longer sprint down the field with my usual fervor; my feet felt heavy, like they were shackled by guilt, dragging me down into an abyss.

Even as I scored goals and executed perfect passes, the joy of playing was tainted by anxiety and uncertainty. My teammates celebrated their victories with shouts of encouragement and laughter, but I could only muster a weak smile, unable to share in their excitement. Each cheer from my teammates felt like a reminder of how isolated I was, surrounded by familiar faces that felt miles away.

During practice, I watched as the sun cast long shadows on the grass, the golden light filtering through the trees lining the edge of the field. I envied the way the sunlight danced over my teammates, illuminating their joy and camaraderie. The air was filled with the sound of their voices, cheerful and light, but I felt like an outsider looking in, trapped in my own swirling thoughts.

But deep down, I knew we had to talk. I missed our banter, the way Marie's laughter felt like music to my ears, and the warmth of our connection that had been so effortlessly built over the past months. It was like I had a piece of me missing, a gaping hole that I didn't know how to fill. With the decision weighing heavily on my heart, I finally resolved to reach out to her.

Later that day, as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the field, I found myself standing at the entrance of the park where we had shared so many memories. The vibrant colors of the sunset reflected the warmth I yearned to regain, and the air was filled with the scent of fresh grass and blooming flowers. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm brewing within me, and sent a text to Marie: "Can we talk? I promise not to bite."

The seconds turned into minutes as I anxiously waited for a reply. My heart raced with anticipation, each vibration of my phone making me jump like a cat on a hot tin roof. Just as doubt began to creep in, my phone buzzed. "Meet me at the café at seven."

A mix of relief and fear washed over me as I made my way to the café. The familiar scents of coffee and baked goods enveloped me as I entered, the cozy atmosphere contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside. I spotted Marie sitting at a small table in the corner, her eyes focused on the window, seemingly lost in thought. The warm light from the overhead lamps caught the strands of her hair, giving her an ethereal glow that made my heart ache with longing.

I approached her slowly, my feet feeling like they were stuck in molasses. "Hey," I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady as my heart pounded in my chest like a freaking jackhammer.

Marie looked up, her expression a mix of relief and uncertainty. "Hey," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. The tension in the air was thicker than a bad horror movie.

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between us. The clinking of coffee cups and the soft chatter of patrons surrounded us, but all I could hear was the thudding of my heart. I fidgeted with my fingers, tracing the pattern on the table, trying to find the right words to bridge the chasm that had formed.