The Inevitable

Chapter 8: Between two worlds

It had been over a week since Tyler showed up at my window, and I hadn't heard from him since. I thought maybe he'd finally given up, that he'd realized what I already knew—we were from two different worlds. It couldn't work.

But then, on a random Tuesday afternoon, as I walked across campus heading to my next lecture, I spotted him.

Tyler.

He was standing by one of the benches near the psychology building, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on me. My stomach twisted, my first instinct to turn around and walk the other way. But I couldn't. Not anymore.

I walked over to him, my heart pounding in my chest as I got closer. "Tyler," I said quietly, keeping my distance. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," he said, his voice steady, but there was an edge to it. "You can't just leave things like this."

I glanced around, feeling exposed in the middle of campus. People were walking by, oblivious to the storm brewing between us, but I felt like all eyes were on us. "This isn't the place—"

"It's as good a place as any," he cut me off, his voice a little harder now. "You've been avoiding me, Jayda. We're not ending it like this."

I let out a shaky breath and stepped closer, lowering my voice. "I don't know what you want me to say, Tyler. I already told you, I can't do this. I can't be with someone who lives like you do."

"What does that even mean?" His eyes flashed with frustration, and I could see the hurt behind it. "What's so wrong with how I live?"

"Everything!" The words came out harsher than I intended, but they were the truth. "I can't live in fear, Tyler. I can't wake up every day wondering if something's going to happen to you, or to me because of the people you're mixed up with. It's not just about you—it's about your whole life."

He clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists inside his jacket. "The 'people I'm mixed up with' are my family, Jayda. You don't just walk away from that."

I shook my head, the ache in my chest growing with every word. "You're choosing them over me."

"It's not a choice," he shot back, his voice rising. "You think I can just leave the Gunnaz and everything will be fine? That's not how it works. They're my family, my blood."

I swallowed hard, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. "But that's exactly the problem, Tyler. I can't be with someone who's part of that world. I can't live like that. I won't."

For a moment, we just stood there, the silence between us heavy and suffocating. His eyes softened, and for a split second, I thought maybe—just maybe—he'd say he was willing to change. That he'd leave it all behind for me.

But then, his jaw set in that stubborn way I'd seen too many times before, and I knew.

"I'm not changing who I am," he said quietly, but firmly. "This is my life. This is who I am."

My heart shattered at his words, even though I'd expected them. I had always known, deep down, that Tyler was never going to leave that life. But hearing it out loud made it real. It made everything real.

"I can't," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I can't do this."

Tyler looked away, his face hardening, and I could see the wall going up between us. "I guess that's it then."

I didn't respond. I didn't have any words left. Slowly, I turned and walked away, my legs feeling like they could give out at any moment. I didn't look back, but I could feel his eyes on me, burning into my back as I left him behind.

The days dragged on, and another month passed. This time, it was different. I wasn't just miserable because I'd cut off contact with Tyler—I was miserable because it felt like I'd lost something bigger. I'd lost someone I cared about, but I couldn't live with his choices. I had to protect myself, even if it meant walking away from him.

Tatum tried to get me out of my funk, but nothing seemed to help. I went to class, studied, met with my groups, but I was only half-present. My mind kept drifting back to him. To what we could have been, if only things were different.

The only silver lining was Aqeelah. We still spoke regularly, and she didn't push me about Tyler. She never asked for details, but I could tell she knew something had happened.

One afternoon, as we were talking over the phone about her latest university application essay, Aqeelah's voice softened. "You know, Tyler's been miserable without you."

My heart clenched at her words, even though I'd tried to convince myself that it was better this way. "He'll be fine," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.

"No, Jayda. He's not fine." Aqeelah's tone was serious, and I could tell she wasn't just saying this to make me feel guilty. "He's been different. Quieter. It's like he's lost something, and we both know what that is."

I didn't know how to respond. Hearing that Tyler was hurting didn't make me feel better. It made everything worse. But what could I do? I couldn't ask him to leave the only life he knew. And I couldn't live in that world with him.

"I don't know what to say, Aqeelah," I finally said, my voice heavy with exhaustion. "It's complicated."

"I get it," she said quietly. "But just know... he's not the same without you."

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me, and after we hung up, I sat there for a long time, staring at my phone, wondering if I'd made the right choice.