Eternal Ephemerals

Unsaid

Lila sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of the blanket beneath her. The room was too quiet. The kind of quiet that felt heavy, thick, pressing down on her chest like it was trying to squeeze something out of her that she wasn't ready to give. She could hear the faint hum of traffic outside, the distant rumble of life carrying on without her, but in here, in this small, dimly lit room, everything was suspended—waiting for her to figure out what to say next.

Owen was standing by the window, his back turned to her, staring out at the street below like he was searching for something, but maybe he was just trying to avoid her gaze. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his shoulders stiff, like he was bracing himself for something, anything, that she might say.

But she hadn't said anything. Not yet.

They had been sitting in this silence for what felt like hours, though Lila knew it had only been a few minutes. Time had a way of stretching when there were too many things left unsaid between two people—when the weight of everything they weren't saying filled the room like an invisible presence.

She didn't know how to begin. Didn't know how to untangle the mess of emotions twisting inside her, the knots of guilt, confusion, and the strange ache of something she wasn't ready to name. Every time she opened her mouth, the words caught in her throat, tangled up in her own fear of what might happen if she let them out.

Owen's voice broke the silence first, soft but sharp around the edges. "You're not saying anything."

His tone wasn't angry, but there was something beneath it, a layer of frustration, or maybe it was hurt. She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Lila closed her eyes, pressing her palms flat against the bed as if steadying herself for what needed to come next. What do I even say? The question ran through her mind, over and over again, but there was no easy answer. How could she explain what was happening inside her when she didn't understand it herself?

"I don't know what to say," she admitted, her voice quieter than she intended. She hated how small it sounded, how helpless. She wasn't used to feeling like this—caught in a storm of her own emotions, unable to find solid ground.

Owen turned then, his eyes searching hers, his expression tight with something she couldn't quite read. Disappointment? Sadness? Maybe both. "You don't know what to say?" he echoed, and his words felt like they were pressing her further into the silence she was trying to escape. "You don't know?"

Lila bit her lip, looking away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. She could feel the tears building behind her eyes, hot and unwanted, but she blinked them back. She didn't want to cry. Not now. Not in front of him.

"Everything feels... complicated," she said after a moment, the words spilling out like a confession. "I don't know what I'm feeling, Owen. I don't know what to do with it."

There it was—the truth she had been avoiding for weeks, maybe months. The truth that had been gnawing at her, the thing she had pushed down and buried because admitting it meant confronting something she wasn't ready to face. Something she wasn't sure she could fix.

Owen took a slow breath, his eyes softening just enough for her to feel the ache in her chest grow sharper. "Is it... me?" he asked, his voice gentler now, like he was afraid of the answer. "Is it us?"

Is it us? The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Lila had been asking herself that same question for so long that it had started to blur into the background of her thoughts, always there, always present, but never fully acknowledged.

She didn't know how to answer. Because yes, it was about them. It was about everything—the way they had grown comfortable, too comfortable, like they had settled into a rhythm that didn't quite fit anymore. The way she sometimes felt like she was losing herself in the relationship, unsure of where she ended and they began. The way her emotions had become this tangled knot of love, confusion, and doubt, all mixed together, making it impossible to separate one feeling from the next.

But it wasn't just him. And that was the part that made everything feel so impossibly complicated.

"It's not just you," she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of it all. "It's... me. I don't know how to explain it. I don't know how to... fix it."

Owen looked down, his hands still buried in his jacket pockets, and she could see the tension in his jaw, the way he was holding himself together. He was trying. He had always been the one trying. Even now, when she was the one unraveling, he was holding steady, waiting for her to give him something to hold on to.

But what could she give him? What could she possibly say that would make sense of all the mess inside her? How could she explain that some days, she felt like she was drowning in their love, suffocated by the weight of expectations she didn't even understand, and other days, she clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her afloat?

"I don't want to lose you," she said suddenly, the words spilling out before she could stop them. They felt too raw, too exposed, but they were true. She didn't want to lose him. That wasn't what this was about. But she also didn't know how to keep going like this—feeling lost, feeling like she was drifting further and further away from herself with every passing day.

Owen looked up, his eyes meeting hers again, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence between them. Not the heavy, suffocating silence that had filled the room before, but something else. Something fragile, something that felt like it might break if either of them said the wrong thing.

"Then don't lose me," Owen said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "We can figure this out. We can work through it. Just... don't walk away."

Lila felt the tears sting her eyes again, but this time, she didn't blink them back. She let them fall, her heart breaking and healing all at once, because she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that they could work through this, that there was a way forward, that she wasn't losing herself completely.

But the truth was, she didn't know. She didn't know if she could fix what was broken inside her, didn't know if she could untangle all the conflicting emotions that had been pulling her apart. She loved Owen—there was no doubt about that. But sometimes, love wasn't enough to untangle the mess inside. Sometimes, love wasn't enough to fix what had already started to unravel.

"I'm trying," she said, her voice cracking. "I'm trying, but I don't know how."

Owen took a step toward her, closing the distance between them, and gently reached for her hand. His touch was warm, steady, familiar, and for a brief moment, she felt like she could breathe again. Like maybe they could find a way through this together.

"We'll figure it out," he said, his voice soft but full of determination. "We'll figure it out, Lila. Just don't give up on us."

Lila closed her eyes, squeezing his hand in return, her heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. She didn't have the answers, and she didn't know what the future held. But as Owen stood there, his hand in hers, she knew one thing for sure: she wasn't ready to give up. Not yet.