HEARTBLOOD - Paul Lahote

TWELVE

The phone felt heavy in my hand as I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over Angela's name. But now, in the aftermath of the fight, I needed someone who would listen, someone who wouldn't judge, someone who would understand without saying the wrong things. I had to speak.

I didn't even know what I wanted from Angela—just a voice, maybe, a connection to something normal, something that didn't feel like it was slipping through my fingers. I pressed her name on the screen and brought the phone to my ear, listening to the ringing on the other end.

When she answered, her voice was soft and warm, a familiar comfort. "Hey, Nicolette. How's it going?"

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat thick and painful. "Angela, I... I don't know how to start."

She paused, and I could feel her attention sharpen. The shock of my voice ringing through,"Hey, it's okay. Just tell me what's going on. I'm here for you."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The fight with Paul had left me reeling. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and I didn't know if I was about to fall or fly. I wanted to blame him, to say it was all his fault, but the truth was—it wasn't. We were both at fault. We'd both pushed each other too far.

"I had a fight with Paul," I said quietly, my voice trembling a little despite myself. "It was bad. Really bad. He... he said we might be too broken to fix."

Angela didn't speak right away, and I could almost feel her processing what I'd said. It w

as so much to take in, I didn't blame her. After all, she wasn't there to see it unfold. But I needed to get it out, needed her to hear it, even if it made me sound weak or confused.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently, her voice soft and careful. I knew she was trying to choose her words wisely, giving me space to be honest without pushing too hard.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head even though she couldn't see me. "I don't know what happened, Angela. One minute, I was trying to fix things, and the next... we were yelling at each other. I feel like I lost him tonight. Like he's walking away, and I don't know how to stop it."

There was a long silence, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. Angela was letting me talk, letting me sort through my mess. I appreciated that.

"I don't know what to do," I continued, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "I can't keep pretending everything's okay. I can't pretend it's all fine when every time I'm with him, it feels like we're fighting more than we're actually... being together. And now... now I don't even know if we can fix it. If he'll even want to fix it."

"Is that what you want?" she asked softly. "To fix it? To fix things with him?"

I hesitated. The truth was, I didn't know. Everything in me wanted to believe we could get through this, but every time I thought about the words he'd said—about walking away, about being too broken to fix—I couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was right. Maybe we were too far gone. Maybe we'd built something on shaky ground, and no matter how hard we tried, it was destined to fall apart.

"I think... I think I want to fix it," I said slowly, testing the words in my mouth, as if trying them on for size. "But I don't know if he wants to anymore. I don't know if he even sees me the same way. If we're still... us."

"Listen, Nicolette," Angela said, her voice firm now. "You're not alone in this. I get that you're struggling with Paul, but you don't have to carry this burden by yourself. He's not the only person who cares about you. You've got friends, you've got me, and we're here for you. You've been there for me through so much, and I want to be there for you now."