Between the pages

Chapter 23 Chasing Respite

~ His Pov ~

A week and a half.

It had been a week and a half since I stopped visiting her. A week and a half since I last heard her voice or saw her face. A week and a half since I last felt her presence, even if it was just in the small space of her hospital room, surrounded by the silence that seemed to fill the air.

I thought I could handle it.

I thought distancing myself would be the right choice, that somehow I could shield myself from the inevitable pain of losing her. But now, a week and a half later, it was harder than I had ever imagined. The silence between us was suffocating, and the guilt weighed on me like a constant, heavy shadow.

I kept telling myself that she was fine. That she didn't need me anymore. She had made it clear the last time we spoke that getting close would only hurt me. Indirectly... But it was spelled out in front of me. Yet as the days went on, the distance between us felt less like protection and more like a wound I was too afraid to touch.

I was fooling myself. I couldn't deny it anymore.

I felt like I was standing on the edge of something, and the fall would be too hard. The longer I stayed away, the more I convinced myself it was for the best.

But I couldn't escape the feeling that I was losing something, someone, that I might never get back.

I spent the past week distracting myself. Work, errands, anything to avoid confronting the emptiness that followed me around. But it didn't work. My thoughts always wandered back to her, no matter how hard I tried to push them away.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out, heart pounding.

A message from a friend.

"Are you okay? Haven't seen you around much. You've been really quiet lately."

I stared at the text, unsure how to respond. How could I explain that everything felt like it was falling apart? That even though I wasn't physically with Y/N, I felt like I was losing her in other ways?

I put the phone down, rubbing my face with a sigh.

I hadn't even replied to her messages. Nothing. No calls. No texts. The last time she reached out, it had been to tell me how much she missed me, how much she wanted to see me again. And I had ignored her.

—-----------—

Work was no different. The usual coffee shop routine felt like a blur. I served customers, made small talk, and tried to push my thoughts to the back of my mind. But everything about the day felt off.

The buzz of the espresso machine. The chatter of the regulars. The soft clink of cups and saucers. None of it seemed to matter.

One could argue that it's because her usual seat was empty. There was no one there who usually sat reading, or quietly scribbling away, lost in her own little world as if there wasn't a single person their but her.

My mind kept drifting back to her hospital room, to the way she looked when I last saw her... The emptiness in her eyes when I told her I'd be leaving.

I couldn't even remember the last time I visited her. It felt like a lifetime ago, but in reality, it was only a week and a half.

I told myself it was just temporary. That this space would be good for both of us. But I couldn't ignore the gnawing ache in my chest, the loneliness I couldn't fill with anything else.

—-----------—

My apartment wasn't any better.

You'd think the place I used to call home would be my only respite from thinking of her, but it wasn't. After all, she had never been there. There weren't any reminders—no photographs, no traces of her presence. Yet, every corner of the place seemed to echo with the absence of something, something I couldn't quite place.

I kicked my shoes off by the door and moved into the living room. The silence in here was almost suffocating, the same kind of silence that followed me everywhere now. I dropped my bag on the couch and ran a hand through my hair, staring blankly at the walls.

For the last week and a half, this was where I had come to escape, but it was no different than being at work, or even walking the streets—everything led back to her. Every thought seemed to spiral back to Y/N, no matter how much I tried to shut it out.

I wasn't used to feeling like this. The constant weight of guilt pressing down on me. The questions. The "what ifs." What if I had just stayed? What if I hadn't kept my distance, thinking I was doing the right thing? What if I hadn't convinced myself she'd be better off without me?

I could've sworn I'd heard her laugh in the background when I first walked in. The soft sound of her voice calling my name, asking me if I wanted to watch a movie or watch the stars. But then I blinked, and it was gone. The apartment was silent once more.

I grabbed a glass from the kitchen and filled it with water, my hand trembling as I brought it to my lips. The water did nothing to settle the dryness in my throat, the tightness in my chest. I couldn't keep pretending like everything was fine.

It wasn't.

I set the glass down on the counter and ran my fingers over the edge, staring out the window, the dim city lights reflecting in the glass. The emptiness in my apartment was only an extension of the emptiness I felt inside. I couldn't stop thinking about her.

The last time we were together, I swore I wouldn't leave her alone. Yet, I had.

I knew she must have been wondering where I was. I knew she'd be feeling the absence just as much as I was. Her calls. Her texts. I had ignored them, thinking I was doing the right thing, but deep down I knew I wasn't.

It was stupid to think she would just let me disappear from her life without a fight. Even after everything, even after what I said, she still reached out to me. She still cared. And I... I just stayed away.

I grabbed my phone from the counter, the screen flickering to life with a dozen missed notifications. A few messages from friends asking if I was alright. But the ones that stood out were from her.

"Are you okay?"

"I miss you."

"I haven't heard from you..."

I felt my breath catch in my throat. I couldn't even bring myself to open them. It felt like betrayal just looking at the messages, leaving it on read.

I collapsed onto the couch, staring at the screen of my phone.

How could I have done this? How could I have stayed away when I knew how much she needed someone?

Truth is... Home wasn't anywhere anymore. Home... was with her.