The words that was left unsaid

Chapter 5

As Rue stepped out of her last class of the day, the bustling hallways felt like a blur of noise and movement. She adjusted her backpack, heart still racing from the final bell, and made her way toward the exit. But as she passed by the courtyard, something made her stop in her tracks.

There, leaning against the brick wall, was Cara—her best friend, the girl Rue had secretly been in love with for months. Cara's laughter echoed across the courtyard, a sound Rue loved and hated all at once. But it wasn't just Cara's laughter that caught her attention.

Standing beside her, with that new boy smile Rue had only seen a few times that day, was Jacob—the guy who had transferred into their class earlier. Jacob had that effortless charm, the kind that made people gravitate toward him without trying. He and Cara were talking animatedly, completely absorbed in their conversation.

Rue felt an uncomfortable knot form in her stomach. She hadn't expected to feel this way—jealous, unsure, small. But watching Cara laugh with him like that, hearing the way she tossed her hair back and gave him that smile, was like a punch to the chest. Rue had always known she was too afraid to tell Cara how she felt, but seeing it all unfold right in front of her made it even harder to ignore.

She turned quickly, trying to hide the sting in her chest, but not before catching the way Jacob looked at Cara—the way his gaze lingered. Rue bit her lip, trying not to let the tears well up. She couldn't let Cara see her like this, not now. So, with a deep breath, she veered off to the left, heading toward her next class, pretending like everything was fine. But inside, it felt like the world was cracking.

Rue pushed through the bathroom door, the harsh fluorescent lights flickering overhead as she stumbled toward the nearest sink. She didn't even care if anyone saw her—right now, the only thing that mattered was getting away from that courtyard, from Cara's laughter, from Jacob's effortless connection with her best friend.

She leaned her palms against the cool marble countertop, trying to steady herself, but the tears came anyway—quiet at first, then faster, until they were streaming down her face. Rue squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to stop, but she couldn't. Not now, not when the weight of everything she'd been keeping inside felt like it was suffocating her.

She thought back to all the moments with Cara—the late-night talks in the park, the inside jokes no one else understood, the way her heart would race every time Cara brushed up against her. How she'd always been there, no matter what. Rue had told herself time and time again that it was just a crush, that it was something that would fade. But it hadn't. It had only grown, deepened, until it felt like it was the one constant in her life.

And now, watching Cara laugh with someone else, someone who wasn't her, was like the final blow to a dream that had never even had a chance to come true. Rue could never say what she really felt. She'd spent so long pretending everything was okay, pretending that being her best friend's sidekick was enough. But now... now it didn't feel like enough anymore.

Her breath hitched as she recalled all those small moments—Cara's hand brushing hers when they walked together, the soft smiles they exchanged across the classroom. Every second with Cara had felt like something more, something Rue had held onto even though she knew it was just a wish, a fantasy.

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, trying to compose herself, but the ache in her chest wouldn't subside. She had always known this day would come. The day when she'd have to face the reality that Cara might never see her the way Rue saw her. That someone else would take the space she'd been holding in Cara's heart all along.

The bathroom door creaked open, but Rue didn't look up. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone came in to use the mirror, to do whatever it was they needed to do. But for now, she just stood there, fighting to hold onto a fragment of herself, before she was forced to face the rest of the day.