In between the lines

Chapter 3: Emptiness

Charlotte's POV:

A week had slipped by since the Miss Grand Thailand event, and I felt more drained than ever. I had immersed myself in work—live sales for Atipa and promoting skincare products at events—each task becoming increasingly monotonous. My limbs felt heavy, and my heart ached with a dull throb, trapped in a relentless cycle of exhaustion that left me feeling utterly depleted.

Today, I found myself in a cozy café, its inviting warmth a stark contrast to the chill creeping into my soul. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of pastries, creating a comforting ambiance. Soft jazz played in the background, blending seamlessly with the low hum of conversation that surrounded us. My best friend, Heidi, sat across from me, her eyes sparkling with joy as she animatedly recounted stories about her boyfriend.

"You wouldn't believe what Kun did the other day! He tried to surprise me with dinner but ended up burning the pasta. I had to rescue the meal with takeout," she chuckled, shaking her head, her laughter a bright melody that filled the air. I managed a small smile, grateful for her lightheartedness, but even her tales felt distant, as if they belonged to another world—a world untouched by the shadows that loomed over me.

As she continued her stories, my thoughts drifted back to the complexities of my own life.

Why did I feel so empty?

I had always found solace in solitude, but now the reality of my fractured relationship with Engfa loomed large, its specter haunting my every thought. Loneliness felt sharper and more painful, like a dagger lodged in my chest. Engfa had been icing me out for nearly a year, and it was clear she wanted nothing to do with me anymore.

But why was it bothering me so much now?

Suddenly, Heidi's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back into the present. "Hey! Earth to Charlotte! You've been staring at your coffee for the past ten minutes. What's going on?"

"Nothing," I replied a bit too quickly, defensiveness creeping into my tone, a reflex born from months of practiced avoidance. I didn't want to dive into this, especially not now.

"Really? Because you look like you're a million miles away," she observed gently, her tone light yet cautious, as if she were walking on thin ice. "I saw some clips from the Miss Grand event last week. You and..." She paused as if afraid to finish her sentence, but eventually, she found the courage to carry on. "...Engfa looked a bit off. Is everything okay?"

My heart sank at the mention of her name. A sharp spike of frustration surged through me, breaking the fragile surface of my composure.

"Can we not talk about Engfa right now? I really don't want to dwell on it," I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.

Heidi's eyes widened in surprise, her joyful demeanor faltering as confusion etched itself onto her features. Guilt washed over me immediately, swirling like a storm inside. I hated being short with her, especially when she was just trying to check in.

"I'm sorry, Heidi," I continued, taking a deep breath to steady myself, feeling the warmth of the café wrap around me like a soft blanket. "I just... I don't want to focus on friendships that feel like they're beyond repair. It's exhausting."

Heidi's expression softened, and I could see the concern etched in her features.

"I get it. You've been through a lot with her," she said gently, her voice a lifeline amid the swirling chaos of my thoughts. "But you know I'm here for you, right? You don't have to navigate this alone."

"I know," I murmured, the ache in my chest swelling like a tide threatening to overflow.

I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. "What we had—it's gone. The laughter, the connection—everything has faded into this awkward silence. I don't want to keep bringing it up because it feels like digging up a grave. It's painful to think about what we could have had, and I don't want to keep holding onto something that already slipped through my fingers."

I was utterly exhausted by the endless cycle with Engfa—months of silence followed by forced conversations orchestrated by Nawat, our boss, who was clearly desperate to mend the growing tension. Nawat had intervened because fans had started to notice our discomfort, speculating and whispering about our friendship's decline. Rumors circulated like wildfire, and the last thing we needed was a bad reputation for the company. Yet despite Nawat's efforts to mediate our conflicts, the rift between us remained, an unbridgeable chasm that I didn't know how to cross.

As we finished our coffee and prepared to leave, the weight of my thoughts pressed down on me like an anchor. The mere thought of Engfa stirred a deep ache in my heart, a bittersweet reminder of what we once shared. Yet the truth loomed larger than my emotions: she had made her decision long ago, and I had to confront that reality. Accepting it was harder than I anticipated.

For the past year, I had clung to the hope that she might come around, that we could rediscover what we once had, but that moment never came. I realized I needed to release the hope that was binding me to a past that no longer existed. To move forward and escape the pain I felt, I had to let go. Engfa didn't want me in her life—not in the way I wanted. Our relationship was now reduced to mere colleagues, partners in name only. It was time for me to accept this truth and find my own path forward.

Stepping outside into the warm sunlight, the chatter of people and the scent of fresh coffee enveloped me, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within. I could still hear Heidi's laughter echoing in my mind, a reminder of the joy that friendship could bring.

Heidi fell into step beside me, her brows knitted in thought. "You know, Charlotte, I can see how much this is hurting you. Sometimes, it's okay to admit that it's over. It doesn't mean you failed; it just means you're recognizing what is."

I looked at her, surprised by her understanding. "I want to believe that. But it feels like I'm losing a part of myself. We had something real, and now it's just gone."

"I know this is hard for you," Heidi said softly, her empathy washing over me like a gentle wave. "It's okay to mourn what you had. Just know that you deserve friendships that lift you up, not ones that drag you down. You can't keep fighting for something that's already been lost."

Her words sank in, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of relief. It was a tiny spark, but it was there. I didn't have to carry this burden alone.

As the doubts swirled, I knew I had to find the courage to face them. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn't want to be caught in this limbo forever. I had to accept that some things are truly beyond repair.