The Inevitable

Chapter 7: Unspoken goodbyes

The sound of my father's voice still echoed in my head long after our argument had ended. His words hadn't left much room for negotiation. I was to cut off all ties with Tyler, and there was no way around it. My stomach clenched as I stared at my phone, Tyler's name glowing on the screen.

I wanted to reply. I wanted to explain. But my dad's ultimatum weighed on me, and deep down, I knew he wasn't wrong. Tyler was trouble. He lived in a world I didn't belong to, and if I wasn't careful, I'd get caught in the crossfire.

You're smarter than this, Jayda.

That's what he'd said, as if my feelings were something I could just turn off. As if caring about someone like Tyler made me less smart. I swallowed the lump in my throat and opened my messages one last time. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. What could I even say?

I can't talk anymore, I typed, my hands shaking. It's not safe for me.

I stared at the message for a long time, my thumb hovering over the send button. Then, before I could change my mind, I pressed it.

The message sent. Tyler's number disappeared from my contacts, blocked.

That was a month ago.

Every day since then had been the same. I'd wake up, go to class, meet with Tatum, go home. Rinse and repeat. Except everything felt muted, like I was living in slow motion. Tatum kept asking me what was wrong, but I never told her the full truth. I didn't tell her how I had to block Tyler, or how empty I felt without his random texts popping up on my phone.

I missed him. More than I wanted to admit.

I stared at my phone constantly, even though I knew there'd be no messages from him. Not anymore. I told myself it was for the best, that my dad was right, that this was the only way to stay out of trouble. But I couldn't stop the aching feeling inside me. The way my thoughts drifted back to Tyler—his face, his voice, the way he'd looked at me that night before everything had blown up.

I thought I could get over it. I thought a month of silence would make it easier. But every day without him felt like a slow unraveling. I was miserable. And I couldn't tell anyone why.

It was late one night, just as I was about to go to bed, when I heard it. A soft knock on my window.

My heart skipped a beat. At first, I thought I'd imagined it, but then it came again, louder this time.

I froze. No one ever came to my window. Slowly, I crept toward it, pulling back the curtain just enough to peek outside. My breath caught in my throat when I saw him.

Tyler.

He was standing there, hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking up at me with a frustrated, determined expression. I quickly glanced over my shoulder, making sure my parents hadn't heard anything, before cracking open the window just enough to talk to him.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered harshly, panic rising in my chest. "You can't be here."

"I've had enough," he said, his voice low but intense. "You've been ignoring me for a month, Jayda. I'm not letting this go without a fight."

My heart pounded in my chest, torn between fear and the overwhelming rush of emotions that seeing him again stirred up. "You don't understand," I whispered, trying to keep my voice down. "I had to—my dad—"

"I don't care about your dad," he cut me off, stepping closer to the window. "This isn't about him. This is about you and me."

I swallowed hard, my fingers gripping the edge of the windowsill. His words echoed in the quiet night, but I knew it wasn't that simple. It could never be that simple.

"I can't do this," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, even though part of me didn't want to believe it.

Tyler's expression softened just a little, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. "I know it's dangerous. I know your parents don't want you anywhere near me. But I need you to trust me. I'm not walking away from this."

I couldn't breathe. The walls I'd tried to build for the past month started to crumble, and all the emotions I'd been holding back surged forward at once. I wanted to open the window, to let him in, to say everything I hadn't been able to say since that night.

But I couldn't. Not yet.

"You shouldn't have come," I said quietly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"I had to," he replied, his voice soft but determined. "I couldn't just sit around while you pretended like none of this mattered. I know you feel it too, Jayda."

His words hung in the air, thick with the tension between us. I wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, but the truth was, I did feel it. I had felt it for a long time.

Before I could say anything, a light flickered on inside the house. My dad.

"Go," I whispered urgently, my heart racing. "You have to go."

Tyler hesitated, his eyes searching mine for a moment longer. "This isn't over," he said firmly, before turning and disappearing into the night.

I closed the window, my heart pounding in my chest as I quickly pulled the curtains shut. The light from my dad's room flickered off again, and I let out a shaky breath.

This wasn't over.