My Player Bestfriend (Book #1)

Chapter Twenty Five

I didn't say anything at first. I couldn't. My body moved toward him automatically, but my mind felt stuck somewhere far away. I was shaking, and it was like my mouth was numb. I couldn't form the words. They felt too big for my throat.

He saw my face, and I didn't have to say anything.

His expression shifted immediately. "Mary?"

I didn't answer. I just shook my head.

He stepped closer, gently grabbing my arms. "Hey, what happened? What did the doctor say?"

I swallowed, the lump in my throat hard and rising. I looked away.

"Mary," he repeated, quieter this time. "Tell me."

I finally looked up, my voice barely a whisper.

"There's no heartbeat."

I saw it hit him—like someone had pulled the ground out from under him. His jaw clenched. His eyes darted to the side as he took a breath, like he needed a second to register the words. Like he didn't want to believe it.

"No heartbeat?" he repeated, voice low and unsure.

I nodded once.

"They said it... just stopped. No reason. It just... happened."

I watched as Austin's chest rose and fell, slowly, his face blank but his hands curling into fists. I could tell he was doing everything in him not to completely unravel in front of me.

And that somehow made it worse.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, even though I didn't know what I was apologizing for.
For losing something we never even had?
For letting him believe there would be more time?

He pulled me into him without saying anything. Just wrapped his arms around me like I might disappear if he didn't. And I sank into his chest, because there was nowhere else I wanted to be, and yet, everywhere else hurt.

We stood there like that for a while. Just the two of us and the knowledge of what wouldn't be.

That night, I went quiet.

I couldn't talk. Couldn't feel. I just lay in my bed staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on me.

Austin kept checking on me. Bringing me water. Asking if I wanted to eat. He sat at the edge of the bed and played with the blanket. He didn't push. He didn't try to make me talk. But I could feel the ache in him.

And still—I pulled away.

I needed silence.
I needed space.
I needed something that didn't make me feel like I was falling apart every time I looked at him and saw the sadness in his eyes.

So after the third day, I turned my phone off. I stopped answering the door. I let the texts pile up. I didn't reply to Austin. Or anyone.

I ghosted him.

Not because I didn't care.

But because caring hurt too much.

Because the thought of explaining how it felt to lose something you never even got the chance to love... it was unbearable.

Because I didn't know how to be okay with this, and I couldn't let him see me like this—raw, broken, and angry at the world.

I told myself I just needed a few days.

Then a few more.

But time didn't numb anything.

And I could still hear the silence where a heartbeat should've been.