Unspoken

CHAPTER 23 : A quiet admission

THIRD PERSON POV

Mikha couldn't help but chuckle at herself as they walked away from the fortune teller's booth. The soft flicker of the fair lights and the distant sounds of laughter seemed to blur around her, the air thick with something she couldn't quite name.

The Lovers. She couldn't shake the image of the card. It was beautiful, intricate, but most of all, it felt... too on the nose. She wasn't one for this mystical stuff. Never had been. But the way the fortune teller had looked at her, as if she saw through every layer of her carefully constructed exterior, made her uneasy.

She glanced at Y/n, who was beside her, tucked deep into her own thoughts. The words the woman had said to her—You're used to hiding what you feel, but the universe has a way of pulling truths to the surface—kept circling in Mikha's mind. It was like a whisper at the back of her head, demanding attention.

Mikha didn't like it.

Truths to the surface? Yeah, right. She was fine with keeping things buried. It was easier that way. There was no room for vulnerability in the life she led. Her world was fast, chaotic, full of volleyball practice, games, and always being on. She wasn't a girl who let people in easily. She couldn't afford to. Being in the varsity team meant there were always eyes on her, always people who wanted something from her. She had to be careful.

But then there was Y/n.

Y/n, who had already done enough to shake Mikha's carefully constructed walls, had already slipped into a part of her that she didn't know how to handle. It was a side of her that she kept hidden, buried deep in the crevices of her heart—the side that wasn't always the confident athlete. The side that... wanted something more.

The side that wondered if maybe, just maybe, Y/n could be that something.

You're used to hiding what you feel... Mikha scoffed softly, looking down at her hands as they slipped into her pockets. She hadn't realized she was so tense, her fingers gripping the card tightly, pressing it against the fabric of her jacket. The Lovers.

The irony wasn't lost on her.

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel. She didn't want to feel anything. It had been easy before—she kept her emotions in check, everything neatly locked away. But Y/n had a way of pulling at her, slowly chipping away at those walls. Mikha didn't understand it, didn't know why every time she looked at Y/n, her heart seemed to skip just a little.

Mikha could feel her thoughts spiraling, her mind a jumble of confusion. Was it possible? Was she really feeling this way about Y/n?

No. That couldn't be it. She couldn't let herself go there. Y/n was... Y/n was Y/n, and Mikha was supposed to just be her friend. It didn't have to be anything more. The world they lived in was already complicated enough. Relationships, feelings—those weren't things Mikha could afford to entertain. Not in the middle of everything else.

But that card... The Lovers. It felt like a cruel joke. Mikha rubbed the back of her neck, trying to shake off the heaviness that was settling in her chest. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so confused, so unsure about something she thought she had figured out.

They stopped as they reached her car, Mikha was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't even notice until Y/n spoke, cutting through the fog in Mikha's mind.

"Are you okay?" Y/n's voice was soft.

Mikha tried to force a grin, though it felt too tight. "Yeah," she said, trying to brush it off. "Just... thinking."

"About the fortune teller?" Y/n asked, her brow arching slightly. The playful challenge was there again, but Mikha could tell Y/n was a little more guarded now, the way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Mikha nodded, though her thoughts were far from light. "Yeah. I think she was just messing with us."

Y/n laughed, but Mikha could hear the uncertainty there too, like Y/n wasn't fully convinced. Mikha didn't blame her. She wasn't convinced either.

Y/n's laughter faded a little, and Mikha watched her as they got into the car, the weight of the night pressing down on her. She wasn't sure how much longer she could pretend that everything was just fine, that the feelings she'd been trying to bury weren't starting to surface.

Maybe... maybe it was time to admit it. To her. To myself.

"What if she was right?" Mikha blurted before she could stop herself, her voice softer than she intended.

Y/n froze mid-motion, her hand hovering over the seatbelt as she turned to face Mikha. Her expression was unreadable. In that moment, it was just the two of them, sitting in the quiet of the car. Mikha's heart pounded in her chest, and she suddenly felt exposed, like Y/n could see right through her, see the doubt and the growing fear in her eyes.

Y/n didn't say anything for a long moment. Mikha's stomach twisted in knots, the silence stretching between them. And then, finally, Y/n spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Maybe... some things are meant to come out. Even if we're not ready for it."

Mikha's breath hitched. The words felt like a quiet admission, as though Y/n was letting something slip too, something she hadn't said aloud.

Mikha swallowed hard, her mind racing. She hadn't expected this. She hadn't expected Y/n to be so... open. She hadn't expected Y/n to say something that felt like she was acknowledging the very thing Mikha was trying to ignore.

For a moment, Mikha couldn't find her words. She wanted to say something, anything, to cover up the way her heart was suddenly pounding, but nothing came. Instead, all she could do was nod, her eyes dropping to her hands, resting nervously in her lap.

And that's when it hit her.

Maybe she did like Y/n. Maybe it had been there for longer than she realized, hiding in the corners of her thoughts, just waiting for the right moment to surface.

And now, it was here. Out in the open.

Mikha wasn't ready for this, not at all. She wasn't sure she could handle it. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized there was no ignoring it anymore.

She wasn't sure where this would go, or how she was supposed to navigate it. But for the first time, Mikha allowed herself to feel it—whatever this was.

"Yeah," she murmured, almost to herself, "maybe some things just... happen." She looked up at Y/n, a small, uncertain smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe we don't always get to choose."

Y/n didn't respond immediately, but Mikha could see it in her eyes—the understanding, the quiet acknowledgment that passed between them in that moment.

Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't the only one who was starting to figure it out.