Unspoken

CHAPTER 3 : Cracks in the silence

THIRD PERSON POV

The days blurred together after Mikha's visit to the library. Y/n threw herself into her student council work, using the endless meetings and event planning to distract herself. But even in the busiest moments, Mikha was there-in the back of her mind, her voice echoing softly, her rare smile lingering like an afterimage.

It was a week later when Y/n saw Mikha again, though not in the way she expected. The gymnasium was packed with students, the air electric with the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the court and the rhythmic thud of a volleyball being spiked.

Mikha was at the center of it all, her movements precise and powerful, a blur of determination and grace. Y/n stood at the edge of the crowd, her clipboard clutched tightly to her chest. She was here to oversee the setup for the university sports festival, but her eyes kept straying to the court, to Mikha.

When the whistle blew for a timeout, Mikha jogged to the sidelines, wiping sweat from her brow. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and for one heart-stopping moment, they locked onto Y/n.

"Y/n!" Mikha called, waving her over.

Y/n hesitated, her heart racing. She glanced around, half-expecting Mikha to be calling for someone else, but there was no one else. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the bench where Mikha was sitting.

"Hey," Mikha said, grinning up at her. "Didn't know you'd be here."

"I'm working," Y/n replied, holding up her clipboard as if it were a shield. "You guys are putting on quite a show."

Mikha chuckled, reaching for her water bottle. "Yeah, Coach has been pushing us hard. We've got a big game coming up."

"I can tell," Y/n said, her gaze flickering to the court. "You're amazing out there."

Mikha paused mid-sip, her eyes meeting Y/n's. For a moment, the noise of the gym seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in the stillness.

"Thanks," Mikha said softly, her voice tinged with surprise. "That... means a lot."

Y/n opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, one of Mikha's teammates called her name, signaling it was time to return to the game.

"I should go," Mikha said, standing. She hesitated as if considering something, before leaning in slightly. "Maybe after the festival, we can grab coffee or something. You know, to talk more about books-or whatever."

Y/n's breath caught. "Yeah," she said quickly, her voice higher than she intended. "I'd like that."

Mikha smiled, her expression warm and earnest, before jogging back to the court.

Later that night, Y/n sat in her dorm room, staring at her phone. Mikha's words replayed in her mind on an endless loop. Coffee or something. Did it mean anything, or was it just a friendly gesture?

Her phone buzzed, breaking her reverie. It was a text-from Jaz.

"Hey! Just saw Mikha's story. She's been raving about All the Light We Cannot See. Guess your recommendation really hit the mark!"

Y/n's stomach twisted. Jaz. Of course. She hadn't even thought about how Mikha might've talked to her about the book, about everything.

Her phone buzzed again.

"Oh, and Mikha mentioned she's planning to invite me to her next game. She's so sweet, right?"

Y/n's hand tightened around her phone as she read the message. Jaz didn't mean anything by it-she was just being her usual bubbly self. But the words cut deep, like salt on an open wound.

Y/n typed out a quick response-something polite, something neutral-before tossing her phone onto her desk. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like if things were different. If Mikha looked at her the way she looked at Jaz. If the connection Y/n felt wasn't one-sided.

But reality had a way of creeping back in, sharp and unforgiving. Mikha might have asked her for coffee, but it didn't mean anything. Not when her heart was already spoken for.

And yet, even as the tears fell, Y/n couldn't bring herself to stop hoping.