Writing Challenge - Day 17

Chapter 13

Eile’s days blended into each other like overexposed film reels—bright moments washed into white noise. Between study sessions, cramped van rides, and spontaneous grocery runs that turned into golden-hour shoots, life took on a hazy rhythm. She laughed with the girls. She filmed with Henry. They all piled into booths at roadside diners and acted like they belonged there.

Henry always flirted—but quietly. In the way his eyes lingered on her face when she was talking to someone else. In the way he always made sure she had the front seat. In the way he never once failed to say, “You look good today,” even if she was in baggy sweats and hadn’t brushed her hair.

She didn’t think much of it. That was just Henry, she told herself. That was just his way. He flirted because it was how he spoke—like another language. She didn’t take it personally. Not until lately. Not until the way he looked at her started to feel like it meant something. But she brushed it off.

That was just Henry. It didn’t mean anything.

Then Ric’s voice cut through her autopilot like glass.

It happened one sleepy Tuesday before class, during that soft hum of chatter and half-hearted yawns. Eile had mentioned their weekend trip in passing—something about the lake, the footage they got, the gas station with the good donuts.

Bailey leaned in, elbows on the table. “You’ve been going out with Henry a lot lately.”

“Yeah,” Eile shrugged. “He doesn’t really hang out with anyone else. I think he’s kinda lonely, y’know? I don’t mind being there for him. It’s harmless.”

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” Ric said, tone calm but direct, “but you’re kind of ignorant.”

The air thinned.

Eile blinked. “Sorry—what?”

Ric didn’t flinch. “I know you mean well. But sometimes meaning well isn’t enough. You mistake someone’s loneliness as a reason to stay close… and that can get messy. Might be helpful to work on that.”

He didn’t say it cruelly. No judgment in his tone. Just something solid and cold, like stepping barefoot onto tile. It wasn’t even a confrontation—it was a realization, dropped in her lap like a stone.

She laughed, small and forced. “Okay. Well. That was blunt.”

But Ric had already gone back to highlighting something in his book. Bailey stayed quiet, biting her lip like she’d heard it before.

Eile smiled, nodded, and pretended to move on. But the words followed her like shadows—quiet, insistent, cold.

She barely heard the lecture. Everything was static. Her mind kept looping:Ignorant.Messy.Work on it.

It wasn’t the insult that got to her. It was that maybe—just maybe—he was right.

And Bailey? She knew it too. Because halfway through the class, she slipped out and found Henry.

They stood just outside the building, tucked behind a vending machine humming with old energy.

“I need to say something,” Bailey started. “About Eile.”

Henry cocked his head. “What about her?”

Bailey crossed her arms. “You and Eile are…close. If you’re not interested in her, then you guys should set boundaries and not be so close. I’m saying this as a friend to both of you. It won’t end well.”

Henry’s jaw tightened. His gaze dropped for a second, then flicked up again, sharper now, like he was deciding whether or not to defend himself.

“I wasn’t trying to mess with her.”

“I’m not saying you were,” Bailey replied. “I’m saying you are. Whether you mean to or not.”

After class, Eile checked her phone.Henry: Hey, gonna skip today. Hope you're good tho.No explanation. Just silence dressed as courtesy.

She stared at the message blankly.

Bailey caught her on the way out.

“Hey,” she said gently. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t,” Eile murmured.

“I know I’m blunt sometimes,” Bailey continued, “but I’ve been right before. You deserve clarity, not confusion. This won’t end well if it keeps going like this.”

Eile smiled. “Thanks,” she said. It sounded like goodbye.

The drive home was a blur of streetlights and stop signs, her vision clouded by tears she kept trying to blink away. But they came anyway—hot, messy, and merciless.

Her breath hitched as she gripped the wheel tightly, the familiar route home warping under the weight of her spiraling thoughts. Her throat burned. Her chest ached. The cries she kept at bay finally came through.

Her sobs came in waves. Ugly, raw ones—the kind that made her whole body tense, the kind that left her gasping for air.It felt like something inside her was cracking open. Like grief wasn’t just an emotion, but a muscle—pulled too tight and finally tearing.

By the time she pulled into the lot beneath her apartment, her hands were trembling. She turned the car off but didn’t move. Just sat there, the cries turned to agonizing sobs, only to be heard by her.

Her phone lit up.

Henry.She let it ring once. Twice. Then she answered, voice barely above a whisper.

“Eile?” His tone sharpened. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond right away. A quiet sniffle gave her away.

“Are you crying?” he asked, softer now. “Where are you?”

“In my car,” she managed. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re okay,” he said quickly. “You’re okay, Eile. Listen, get dressed. I’m picking you up. You need to get out of your head for a bit.”

She shook her head even though he couldn’t see. “I’m fine.”

“I know,” he said gently. “But I’m not asking. Just throw something on. I’ll be there soon.”

She hesitated. She didn’t want to see anyone. She didn’t want to talk. But she also didn’t want to sit in the dark with her thoughts clawing at her ribs.

“…Okay,” she said finally, voice hoarse.

“All right. I’m on my way.”

The call ended. She sat there a second longer, then forced herself out of the car. Upstairs, she wiped her face with the back of her hand and avoided the mirror. She didn’t want to see what was left of her. Didn’t want to confront the red eyes and the cracked veneer.

But she pulled on a sweater. Not for Henry—for herself. Just enough softness to hold herself together.

She didn’t smile. She didn’t pretend.

But Bailey’s voice lingered in the back of her mind.

This won’t end well if it keeps going like this.

Then she lay on her bed, limbs heavy, thoughts loud.She just waited—tired, swollen, and still hurting—but willing, for now, to let someone else take the wheel.

xoxo, @auroxisia_

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