Loving You In Silent

10

The days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Life moved on, as it always does, but the weight of my fractured relationship with Jennie lingered in the back of my mind like a dull ache I couldn’t shake.

We weren’t friends anymore—that much was clear. But despite everything, I still found myself watching her from a distance at school, catching glimpses of her in the hallways or during lunch. She seemed… okay. Maybe even happy. But there were moments, brief and fleeting, when I’d see her sitting alone, her face clouded with an emotion I couldn’t quite place.

I tried not to dwell on it. Tried not to think about her. But every time my phone buzzed, my heart still leapt, hoping it might be her. It never was.

Instead, I threw myself into other things. My schoolwork, my hobbies, even spending more time with Rose, who had become my anchor through all of this. She didn’t pry too much about Jennie, but she was always there to listen when I needed to vent or cry or just sit in silence.

But no matter how hard I tried to move on, there was a part of me that couldn’t let go.

---

One rainy afternoon, as I was walking home from school, I spotted Jennie across the street. She was standing under a café awning, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she waited for the rain to let up.

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. I hadn’t been this close to her in months, and the sight of her brought back a flood of memories—both good and bad.

Before I could stop myself, I crossed the street, the rain soaking through my jacket. She noticed me approaching and straightened, her expression unreadable.

“Lisa,” she said, her voice flat but not unkind.

“Hey,” I said, my voice barely audible over the rain.

For a moment, we just stood there, the sound of the rain filling the silence between us. I didn’t know what I was doing or why I had even approached her. All I knew was that I couldn’t walk away again.

“How have you been?” I asked finally, my voice hesitant.

Jennie shrugged, glancing down at the ground. “I’ve been okay,” she said. “You?”

“Same,” I replied, though it wasn’t entirely true.

Another silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I wanted to say so much, to ask her so many questions, but I didn’t know where to start.

“Jennie,” I began, my voice shaking slightly. “I know things aren’t… the same between us. And maybe they never will be. But I just—”

“Lisa, don’t,” she said, cutting me off. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it was firm. “I can’t do this right now.”

I felt my chest tighten, but I nodded, stepping back. “Okay,” I said softly.

She looked up at me then, her eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name. Regret? Sadness? Guilt? Whatever it was, it only made my heart ache more.

“Take care of yourself,” she said quietly before turning and walking away, disappearing into the rain.

I stood there for a long time, the cold rain soaking through my clothes, before finally turning and heading home.

---

That night, as I lay in bed, I thought about what Jennie had said—or rather, what she hadn’t said. There was so much left unsaid between us, so much I wanted to fix, but I couldn’t force her to let me back into her life.

Maybe she needed more time. Or maybe she didn’t want me in her life at all.

Either way, I knew I had to respect her decision. As much as it hurt, as much as I wanted to fight for our friendship, I couldn’t keep holding on to something that wasn’t mine to hold.

For now, all I could do was focus on myself and hope that, one day, things might be different.

---

In the weeks that followed, I threw myself into my art. It had always been a way for me to process my emotions, and now, more than ever, I needed it. I spent hours sketching and painting, pouring all of my pain and confusion and longing onto the canvas.

Rose noticed the change in me and encouraged me to keep going. “You’re so talented, Lisa,” she said one day as she flipped through my sketchbook. “You should think about entering some of your work into that art show coming up.”

I hesitated, the idea both exciting and terrifying. “I don’t know,” I said. “What if it’s not good enough?”

“It is,” Rose said firmly. “You just have to believe in yourself.”

For the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this was what I needed—a chance to focus on something that was entirely mine, something that could help me heal.

---

The day of the art show arrived, and as I stood in the gallery, surrounded by my work and the work of others, I felt a sense of pride I hadn’t felt in months.

Jennie wasn’t there—of course, she wasn’t. But as I looked at the people admiring my paintings, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t need her approval or validation to feel whole.

I still missed her. I still cared about her. But for the first time, I felt like I could let go—just a little—and start focusing on myself.

And as the evening went on, I couldn’t help but wonder what the future held. Maybe Jennie and I would find our way back to each other someday. Or maybe we wouldn’t.

Either way, I knew I had to keep moving forward.

Because life, messy and painful as it was, still had so much to offer. And I wasn’t going to let it pass me by.

That's it guys this is the end
We never talk anymore
I may made up something about the art part I just start making myself busy
And sometime I wonder where did it go wrong..but I still miss her as a friend