desertion

116

LYDIA

I'm going to lose my mind.

It's not like I'm ungrateful-I get it. Everyone is worried, and they want to make sure I'm okay. But this hovering? It's suffocating. Miles is practically glued to my side, whether I'm sitting on the couch, standing in the kitchen, or even just walking to his room. He's there. Always there. And while part of me loves him for caring so much, the other part feels like I'm stuck in a cage.

I glance over at him now, sitting way too close on the couch. His knee brushes against mine, and he's scrolling on his phone, pretending like he's not monitoring my every breath. I shift uncomfortably, and his eyes immediately flick to me, scanning me like I'm about to break or do something drastic.

"You okay?" he asks softly, his tone careful, like I'm a fragile vase teetering on the edge of a shelf.

I force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. "I'm fine, Miles. You don't have to keep asking."

He nods but doesn't move.

That's the problem. No one moves. Not really. Everyone's frozen in this weird state of hyper-vigilance around me, and it's driving me insane. Nathaniel's taken to pacing the house like some kind of guard dog, while Miles has turned into my shadow. Even Dad is hovering in his own way, popping into the room every half hour just to "check in."

I rub my temples, trying to ease the tension building there. All I want is for things to go back to normal. I want to be able to hang out with Miles and my friends without feeling like I'm under a microscope. I want to laugh without it feeling forced, to enjoy the little things without this weight pressing down on my chest.

But this? This isn't normal.

Normal would be teasing Miles about his terrible taste in movies. Normal would be making pizza with Tyler and Delila and hearing Julian make some stupid joke that has everyone laughing until they cry. Normal would be waking up and not immediately scanning every window, every corner, every shadow for some sign of danger.

I let out a shaky breath and glance at Miles again. He's watching me now, his phone forgotten in his hand. "You're not fine," he says quietly, and there's something in his voice that makes my chest tighten.

"I am," I snap, sharper than I mean to. "I just... I need space, okay?"

His expression falters, and guilt immediately settles in my stomach. I know he's just trying to help. I know all of them are. But it doesn't change the fact that I feel like a prisoner in my own life.

"Lydia..." He reaches for my hand, but I pull away, standing up from the couch.

"I'm fine," I say again, more firmly this time. "I just need a minute. Alone."

Miles hesitates, and for a second, I think he's going to argue. But then he nods, leaning back against the couch. "Okay," he says softly. "I'll be here if you need me."

I nod and walk out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. I head to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and closing my eyes.

I know they're scared. I know they're trying to protect me. But I don't feel protected. I feel trapped.

I open my eyes and stare out the window, watching the world outside. It looks so normal out there-people walking their dogs, kids riding bikes, cars driving by. For a second, I let myself imagine stepping out there, joining them. Just living.

But then the reality crashes back down, and the weight of it all settles on my shoulders again.

I don't know when-or if-things will ever go back to normal. But God, I hope they do. Because this? This isn't living. This is just... existing.