The weight of Betrayal

Chapter 7

POV: ELIARA

Pauwi na ako ngayon but kiyanelle still didn't reply to my message and when she did go to class she didn't even glance at me

She just ignore me

But why? I didn't even do anything

Did i hurt her? Maybe i said something and she get offended?

The bus hummed along, a steady rhythm against the backdrop of my anxious thoughts.  Kiyanelle still hadn't replied to my message.  Not even a single text.  It felt like hours, maybe even days, since I'd sent that simple "Hey, are you okay?"

She'd been acting strange lately.  In class, she'd avoided my gaze, her head always tilted away, as if I were a ghost she didn't want to acknowledge.

"Bakit kaya?" I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible above the engine's rumble.

Maybe I'd said something wrong?  Maybe I'd been too blunt, too insensitive, too... something.  I'd always prided myself on being a good friend, on being there for Kiyanelle through thick and thin.  But maybe I'd crossed a line, maybe I'd done something to hurt her, and I didn't even know it.

The thought gnawed at me, a persistent itch I couldn't scratch.  I replayed our last conversation, every word, every gesture, searching for a clue, a hint, a single misstep that might have triggered this sudden shift in her behavior.  But I came up empty.

I pulled out my phone again, hoping for a miracle, a text message from Kiyanelle, a single word that would break the silence, that would tell me everything was okay.

But there was nothing.  Just the blank screen, staring back at me, a mocking reflection of my own uncertainty.

I slumped back in my seat, the bus's gentle sway rocking me back and forth.  I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me, a weariness that had nothing to do with the day's activities and everything to do with the weight of Kiyanelle's silence.

The city lights blurred past the window, each one a tiny, flickering reminder of the distance between us.  It felt like a chasm, a gap that had sprung up overnight, separating us, isolating me.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the world, the noise, the uncertainty.  I needed to talk to her.  I needed to understand.

But how?  What could I say?  What if I made things worse?

The bus continued its journey, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of colors, a visual representation of the chaos swirling in my mind.  I was lost, adrift in a sea of unanswered questions, my heart heavy with a nameless dread.

I knew I needed to reach out, to bridge the gap, to find out what was wrong.  But the fear of rejection, of pushing her further away, held me back, a silent, invisible force that kept me rooted in my seat, a prisoner of my own anxieties.

The bus lurched forward, the sudden movement jolting me back to reality.  I looked out the window, the city lights now a blur of color, a reflection of the confusion and uncertainty swirling within me.

I had to do something.  I had to talk to Kiyanelle.

But how?  What could I say?  What if I made things worse?

The bus continued its journey, carrying me further away from Kiyanelle, further away from the answers I desperately sought.  I was lost, adrift in a sea of unanswered questions, my heart heavy with a nameless dread.

The bus lurched, throwing me slightly off balance.  My reflection stared back from the grimy window – a worried, slightly tear-streaked face.  The rhythmic thump of the engine mirrored the frantic beat of my heart.  Kiyanelle’s silence was a deafening roar in my ears, drowning out the city’s usual cacophony.

I replayed our last few weeks together.  The seemingly insignificant moments now loomed large, heavy with unspoken meaning.  The way she’d brushed past me in the hallway, a fleeting touch that felt colder than usual.  The way she’d laughed at someone else’s joke, a bright, carefree sound that didn’t include me.  The way she’d chosen to sit at a different table during lunch, a silent retreat that felt like a deliberate distancing.

Had I been oblivious?  Had I missed the subtle signs, the tiny cracks in our friendship that had slowly widened into a chasm?  The guilt gnawed at me, a relentless beast feeding on my self-doubt.  Maybe I hadn't been the best friend I thought I was.  Maybe I’d been too caught up in my own life, too preoccupied with my own worries to notice hers.

A sob escaped my lips, a choked sound swallowed by the bus’s rumble.  Tears blurred my vision, smearing the city lights into shimmering streaks of color.  I wiped my eyes, ashamed of my weakness, but the tears continued to flow, a relentless torrent of sorrow and confusion.

Kiyanelle had always been there for me.  Through breakups, family fights, academic struggles – she’d been my rock, my confidante, my partner in crime.  Her kindness had been a constant source of comfort, a warm embrace in the face of life’s storms.  And now, this.  This inexplicable silence, this chilling distance.

The bus slowed, pulling into my stop.  I stumbled off, my legs feeling weak and unsteady.  The night air was cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth of my tears.  I walked towards my house, my steps heavy, my heart leaden with despair.

Reaching my room, I collapsed onto my bed, the soft mattress offering little comfort.  My phone lay beside me, a silent testament to Kiyanelle’s unanswered messages.  I picked it up, scrolling through our past conversations, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that might explain her sudden change of heart.

I remembered her laughter, bright and infectious, echoing in my mind.  I remembered her hugs, warm and comforting, wrapping me in a cocoon of safety.  I remembered her advice, wise and insightful, guiding me through difficult times.  And now, all of those memories felt tainted, poisoned by her silence.

Was it something I said?  Something I did?  Or was it something she hadn't told me?  The possibilities spiraled in my mind, each one more agonizing than the last.  Had I somehow offended her?  Had I inadvertently hurt her feelings?  Or was it something entirely unrelated to me?  Was she going through something difficult?  Something she didn't want to share?

The thought of Kiyanelle suffering in silence, without my support, was unbearable.  The pain of her absence was a physical ache, a hollow space in my chest that refused to be filled.  I pictured her face, her usual bright eyes now clouded with sadness, her smile replaced by a mask of indifference.  The image was a cruel torment, a constant reminder of my failure as a friend.

Sleep offered no escape.  My dreams were haunted by Kiyanelle’s ghost, her silent form a constant presence in my nightmares.  I woke up feeling even more drained, the weight of her silence pressing down on me like a physical burden.

The next day at school, I saw her with emilia but she just avoided me like i was a ghost   It was as if she had vanished, leaving behind only a void that echoed with unanswered questions.

I tried to focus on my classes, but my mind was elsewhere, lost in a “what ifs” and “maybes.”  Every interaction with other friends felt hollow, a pale imitation of the genuine connection I shared with Kiyanelle.