UNCERTAIN

2. Doubt and Desire

Ariel’s days continued in the same haze of uncertainty. She moved through life, from class to home, from home to brief moments of freedom when her parents weren’t watching. Each interaction with Leah left her with more questions. Was she only with Leah because it was easy, because no one would judge her for it? Or was there something deeper she was just unable to reach?

The confusion extended beyond Leah. Sometimes, when she passed a boy on the street or saw someone on TV, she’d feel a flicker of attraction—at least she thought it was attraction. But almost immediately, doubt would creep in. Was she attracted to him because he was handsome, or was it because that’s what society told her to feel? On other days, she’d notice a girl and feel a similar spark. But that, too, was coated in uncertainty. Was she really interested in girls, or was it her fear of men that pushed her in that direction?

Her parents never talked about things like attraction or love. They were cold and distant when it came to emotions. Any display of feelings was met with dismissal or, worse, punishment. Her mother would scoff at her for showing weakness, and her father would make snide comments about how emotions were for the undisciplined. With such an upbringing, it was no wonder Ariel struggled to understand herself.

One evening, as she sat in her room, Ariel felt overwhelmed by the weight of her own mind. Leah had messaged her, asking if they could meet up for dinner, and Ariel’s first instinct was to make an excuse. She cared about Leah, or at least she thought she did. But being around her often felt exhausting, as if she were wearing a mask that grew heavier with each passing minute. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep pretending to feel something she wasn’t even sure existed.

She grabbed her phone and typed out a reply, her fingers hesitating over the screen. Sure, let’s meet at the usual spot. She sent the message, then immediately regretted it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Leah; it was that she didn’t know how to be with her without feeling like a fraud.

The restaurant was quiet when Ariel arrived, Leah already seated at their favorite table by the window. Ariel forced a smile as she sat down, though the emptiness gnawed at her insides. They made small talk, but the conversation felt stilted, as it often did. Leah noticed, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Are you okay?” Leah asked, her voice soft.

Ariel paused. She could lie, as she usually did, or she could try to explain the storm of uncertainty raging inside her. “I don’t know,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leah frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t know if I… if I love you. I don’t even know if I know how to love.” The words spilled out before she could stop them.

The silence between them stretched on, heavy and uncomfortable. Leah’s face was unreadable. Ariel braced herself for the inevitable rejection, the moment Leah would walk away and leave her with nothing but her doubts.

But instead, Leah reached across the table and took her hand. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice steady. “I think I’ve known that for a while.”

Ariel looked at her, confused. “You have?”

Leah nodded. “Yeah. I just… I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. I know you’ve been through a lot, Ariel. I know it’s hard for you to figure out your feelings, and that’s okay. We don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

For the first time in a long time, Ariel felt something stir inside her. It wasn’t certainty, but it wasn’t emptiness either. It was something in between—something that, for now, was enough.

Ariel's eyes burned from the lack of sleep. Her hands trembled as she typed furiously on her laptop, trying to meet the thesis deadline that loomed over her like a storm cloud. She had been a Dean’s Lister since her first year, consistently ranking in the top four of her class. Now, as a third-year student, the pressure had only intensified. She knew the road ahead would be even harder, and the thought of slipping even slightly terrified her.

Her parents, of course, demanded perfection. To them, being in the top four wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough. They expected her to be at the very top—anything less was unacceptable. Ariel knew that if she failed to make the Dean’s List this semester, their disappointment would be unbearable. She had seen it before, the way they would look at her with cold eyes, not saying much but making their disapproval crystal clear. The thought of it made her chest tighten with anxiety.

Her days had become a blur of sleepless nights, books, and assignments. She hardly had time to eat, often skipping meals or grabbing whatever snack she could find between classes. Her body had started to show the strain. At just 20 years old, Ariel looked younger, frailer, like a 16-year-old who had never been given the chance to grow. Her skin had lost its glow, her eyes were constantly tired, and she moved through the day like a ghost, haunted by the weight of her own expectations—and her parents’.

The worst part was the thesis. Her group mates were unreliable, barely contributing, leaving her to carry most of the load. Ariel pushed herself to the limit, often staying up until the early hours of the morning, running on nothing but caffeine and sheer determination. The stress was taking its toll, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t afford to fail.