The morning sunlight filtered through my dorm window, casting long shadows across the floor. I sat on the edge of my bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing from Olivia.
It wasn't like her. She was usually the first thing I heard from in the morning—demanding my attention or pulling me into her world before I even had a chance to catch my breath. But today, silence.
I tried to focus on other things, but my mind kept drifting back to last night. The memories were hazy, blurred around the edges like a dream. I remembered the party, the noise, the crowd. I remembered Olivia pulling me onto the dance floor, her hands on my waist, her lips on mine.
And then... nothing.
Except for the image of Olivia tangled up with someone else.
She hadn't seen me. I was sure of that. And because of that, I'd decided not to say anything. What was the point? I had left the party without a word. Maybe she thought I'd abandoned her, and maybe, just maybe, it was my fault she ended up in someone else's arms.
The guilt sat heavy in my chest.
By the time the afternoon rolled around, the silence was unbearable. I found myself staring at my phone again, willing her name to pop up on the screen. When it didn't, I gave in and texted her.
Me: Hey. Are you okay?
No response.
Hours passed, and I sent another message.
Me: I'm sorry for leaving last night. I should've stayed.
Still nothing.
By the time evening fell, my anxiety was a constant hum beneath my skin. I sent one last message.
Me: Please talk to me.
It wasn't until late that night that she finally responded.
Olivia: Meet me at the theater.
I was out the door before I could think twice.
***
When I arrived, the theater was shrouded in dim light, the stage dramatically illuminated by the focused beam of a solitary spotlight. In its center stood Olivia, her posture rigid, arms folded tightly across her chest.
She didn't look up as I approached, her expression unreadable.
"You're late," she said, her voice flat.
"I came as soon as I got your message," I said, my voice small.
She finally looked at me, her eyes sharp. "What happened to you last night?"
"I—" My throat tightened. "I wasn't feeling well. I needed air."
"And you didn't think to tell me?"
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I thought you were busy."
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You can't just disappear on me like that, Heather. I was worried about you."
"I'm sorry," I said again, the words feeling inadequate.
She stepped closer, her gaze softening slightly. "I missed you today," she said, her voice quieter now.
Before I could respond, she closed the distance between us, her hands resting on my shoulders. "I got you, Heather," she said, her tone both soothing and possessive. "Don't forget that."
Her lips found mine, and I let myself fall into her, the weight of the day melting away.
But something was different.
Her kisses were urgent, almost desperate, as if she was trying to remind me who I belonged to. And for a while, I let her.
***
Over the next few days, Olivia's behavior shifted. She'd vanish for hours, sometimes even a whole day, only to show up at my dorm unannounced. She'd kiss me like nothing had happened, pull me into bed, and leave before morning without a word.
One night, she surprised me with a romantic dinner, complete with candles and wine. She presented me with an expensive new camera lens, her eyes gleaming as I opened the box.
"I wanted to spoil you," she said, her smile dazzling.
I thanked her, overwhelmed, but the gesture felt heavy, like a favor disguised as a gift.
She leaned in, her voice soft. "You're everything to me, Heather. Don't ever doubt that."
And yet, her actions spoke differently.
I started noticing her spending more time with that girl from the theater group, Madison, a bubbly, outgoing type who seemed to thrive under Olivia's attention. Madison was suddenly openly hostile toward me, making snide remarks whenever Olivia wasn't around.
When I brought it up, Olivia waved it off. "You're being dramatic," she said, her tone dismissive. "She's just messing with you."
However, the tension between us grew heavier with each passing day, while I felt myself slipping further behind in my classes.
***
One afternoon, while working at the college paper office, the weight of it all finally caught up to me. The room blurred around me, the words on the screen in front of me dissolving into meaningless shapes. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat louder than the last, and a crushing weight tightened around my ribcage. The creeping, all-too-familiar grip of panic slithered in, clawing its way up my throat, threatening to drown me in its suffocating embrace.
I barely registered the sound of someone calling my name.
"Heather?"
It was Jake. He knelt beside me, his face etched with concern. "Hey, are you okay?"
"I—" My voice broke, and the tears I'd been holding back spilled over. "I don't know what to do anymore."
Jake didn't ask questions. He simply stayed by my side, his presence steady as I fell apart.
And in that moment, I realized just how far I'd fallen.
YOU ARE READING
Tethered Light
Romance"Before the chaos, there was quiet. Before the darkness, there was light." This story is a prequel to Echoes of Us and Through the Lens of You, where Heather takes us back to her college years - seven years before that fateful night when she met Bil...
