Unspoken

CHAPTER 15 : Bittersweet offering

THIRD PERSON POV

The faint hum of the freezer echoed through the store as Mikha studied the array of ice cream tubs on display. She still felt unsettled from dinner with Jaz. Something about it hadn't sat right with her, and if she was honest with herself, she knew why.

Y/n.

Mikha sighed, running a hand through her hair. She hadn't seen Y/n much lately, and when she had, their conversations had been shorter, and less animated. She missed Y/n's sarcastic quips, her shy but confident smile, the way she'd roll her eyes at Mikha's jokes but still laugh anyway.

Her eyes settled on Y/n's favorite flavor—salted caramel. She picked up a tub and went to the cashier to ring it up. Afterward, she made her way back to her car, gripping the cold carton in her hands.

This was her peace offering, a small gesture to make up for being so absent. Mikha had been wrapped up in other things, but she knew she hadn't been there for Y/n. Placing the ice cream safely in the passenger seat, Mikha drove toward the university dormitory where Y/n was staying.

The hallway was quiet, save for the muffled voices of students studying or chatting behind closed doors. When she reached Y/n's door, she hesitated. Y/n had mentioned she was studying earlier. What if she was disturbing her? What if Y/n wasn't in the mood to talk? Mikha shook her head. She wouldn't know unless she tried. Taking a deep breath, she knocked softly.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing Y/n in an oversized hoodie and pajama shorts. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun. She looked tired but still beautiful in a way that made Mikha's chest tighten.

"Mikha?" Y/n asked, surprise flickering across her face. "What are you doing here?"

Mikha raised the ice cream with a sheepish smile. "I come bearing gifts. Thought we could catch up, you know, like old times."

Y/n blinked, her gaze darting between Mikha and the ice cream. For a moment, Mikha thought she might say no, but then Y/n sighed and stepped aside, opening the door wider.

"Come in," Y/n said, her voice softer now.

Mikha stepped into the room, instantly enveloped by the scent of Y/n's lavender diffuser.  The desk was cluttered with textbooks and notes, a testament to Y/n's late-night study sessions.

"You didn't have to bring ice cream," Y/n said, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"I wanted to," Mikha replied, plopping down in the chair in front of Y/n's desk and handing her a spoon. "I've been a terrible friend lately."

Y/n's hand paused mid-reach, but she quickly recovered, taking the spoon. "You've been busy. I get it."

"Still," Mikha said, digging into the ice cream. "I should've made time for you.  You're important to me, Y/n/n."

Y/n's heart twisted at the words. She wanted to believe them, but the image of Mikha and Jaz together kept resurfacing in her mind.

"It's fine, really," she said, keeping her tone light.

Mikha frowned, noticing the distant look in Y/n's eyes. "It doesn't seem fine."

Y/n shook her head, forcing a smile. "I've just been so occupied with studying all day."

Mikha wasn't convinced, her brown eyes studying Y/n's face, but she decided not to push. Instead, she held out her spoon. "Truce?"

Y/n chuckled softly, her defenses cracking just a little. "Truce."

For a while, they ate in silence, the tension between them easing with each shared bite of ice cream. Mikha told Y/n about volleyball practice and a funny incident involving their coach, and Y/n couldn't help but laugh, the sound genuine and warm.

But as the conversation flowed, Y/n couldn't ignore the pang of jealousy still lingering in her chest. She wanted to ask about Jaz and how their dinner had gone, to know what Mikha really thought about her, but the fear of hearing something she didn't want to kept her silent.

When Mikha finally stood to leave, she turned to Y/n with a soft smile. "Good luck with your test. Let's hang out again soon, okay? I miss spending time with you."

Y/n's chest ached at the sincerity in Mikha's voice. "Yeah, me too," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "And... thanks for the ice cream."

As Mikha walked out, Y/n closed the door and leaned against it, her emotions swirling in a mess of longing and confusion. She wanted to believe that Mikha cared about her the way she cared about Mikha, but the doubt and jealousy whispered otherwise.

On the other side of the door, Mikha lingered for a moment, her brows furrowed. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with Y/n, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

"Goodnight, Y/n/n," Mikha murmured softly before walking away, the echo of her own words filling the empty hallway.