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NIKA MÜHL (narrative)
When I texted Rylee to come over, I wasn't sure what I was expecting. I knew I had been distant—cold, even—and I wasn't sure if I was ready to forgive her yet. But my heart ached for her, for the warmth and security she always brought me. It was the kind of ache that lingered no matter how much I tried to push it away.
When the knock finally came at my door, I froze for a moment, gripping the edge of the counter to steady myself. My chest felt tight, a mess of emotions tangled inside me—hurt, frustration, longing. I pushed myself forward and opened the door to see her standing there, looking both hopeful and utterly wrecked.
Her blonde hair was slightly messy, like she had run her hands through it a hundred times on the way here. Her brown eyes, usually so full of confidence, were clouded with worry.
"Nika," she said softly, her voice laced with uncertainty.
I stepped back to let her in without a word, keeping my face neutral even though my pulse raced. She hesitated, as if unsure she was even welcome, before stepping inside. I closed the door behind her and turned to face her, crossing my arms to create some distance between us.
She shifted on her feet, her hands fidgeting at her sides. "Thank you for letting me come over," she said, her voice tentative.
I nodded, but I didn't speak. The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable, until she finally broke it.
"Nika, I... I've been trying to figure out how to fix this. I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you," she said, her voice cracking. "I don't know how to make it better, but I'll do anything. Just tell me what I need to do."
Her desperation was written all over her face, and for a moment, I felt my resolve waver. But the memory of her laughing with that cheerleader, completely oblivious to the flirting, still stung. I looked away, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my emotions in check.
"You don't get it, do you?" I finally said, my voice quiet but firm. "It's not just about what happened. It's about how it made me feel—like I didn't matter, like I was invisible."
Her eyes widened, and she took a step closer. "Nika, you matter more to me than anything. I swear I didn't see what she was doing—I was so focused on the game, and I wasn't thinking. I'm an idiot, okay? But you are never invisible to me. Never."
I swallowed hard, trying to hold onto my frustration, but the raw sincerity in her voice made it difficult.
Then, to my utter shock, she dropped to her knees in front of me.
"Rylee, what are you doing?" I asked, startled, as she looked up at me with those pleading blue eyes.
"I'm begging you," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm begging you to forgive me. I can't stand this distance between us, Nika. I need you. Please."
