Chapter 45: No labels

Milie's POV

By the time I reached home, I had already gone silent.

Mom kept asking what happened on the trip. I gave her small answers. Tired. Exhausted. Nothing more. Even I didn't know what had happened.

Everything had shifted too fast.

I tried watching TV, hoping it would quiet my head, but the noise only made things worse. Every few minutes, my eyes welled up again.

I closed them, and everything came back.

Dax's voice. His confession. Alan's silence. The beach. The night.

"I was about to think about Alan… and I promised Dax something too."

The thought sat heavy in my chest. I went to my room, hoping sleep would take over, but it didn't.

Instead, my mind dragged me into something I wasn't ready to face.

Dax and me. Forever. It sounded… right. But when I tried to feel it—something inside me stepped back.

The idea didn't hurt. But it didn't fit either.

And then—Another thought slipped in quietly. Alan.

My chest tightened instantly.

I sat up, restless, unable to stay still anymore. My feet carried me to the balcony before I could think.

And like always—my eyes went straight to his.

His balcony was dark, empty. I wished he would be standing here so I could talk to him.

A lump rose in my throat. "I miss him."

Not loudly. Not dramatically, just an aching way where you don't even realize how much someone had become a part of you.

He had stayed distant after that night. Not rude. Not cold. Just… careful.

'How are you?' 'Are you okay?' That was all. And somehow… that hurt more.

Dax had held on to me. Alan had stepped back. And that difference…I noticed.

My fingers tightened around the railing. "I need to talk to him."

The thought came suddenly—but once it did, I couldn't ignore it.

I walked back inside, picked up my phone, and headed out.

"Mom, I'm going to Alan's."

"It's late," Dad said immediately. "Meet him tomorrow."

"Assignment," I replied, already slipping into my flip-flops.

Before they could stop me, I was out.

The walk felt longer than usual. Or maybe my thoughts were heavier.

By the time I reached his door, my heart was racing.

I pressed the bell. A few seconds later, his Mom opened the door.

"Milie? At this time?"

"Aunty… Alan?"

"He must be asleep. It's been a while since he went to his room."

"Oh…"

Something inside me dropped. I nodded, forcing a smile, and turned away.

Three steps. That's all I took before I turned back again.

"I can't leave like this."

"Aunty… can we just check once?"

She looked at me for a second—probably trying to understand me, and then smiled.

"Come in."

I stood outside his door, staring at the knob. "Should I knock?"

"It's better," she said, clearly amused now.

I nodded and knocked. Once. Twice. Desperation clearly evident in my actions.

"Mom… anything important? Can we talk tomorrow?" His voice came from inside.

My heart leaped. His voice seemed fresh and awake.

"Aunty, he is awake." Excitement filled my voice.

"Milie is here," his Mom called out.

The door opened almost instantly. And there he was... Same face. Same eyes. But tired.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

His Mom chuckled behind me. "I'll leave you two."

And as his Mom stepped down, I didn't wait.

"If that girl doesn't love you back… if she can't be with you… will you stop talking to her?" My voice broke before I could stop it.

His expression changed immediately. Confused and shocked.

"No," he said, stepping closer. "Never."

His hand came up instinctively, wiping the tear before it could fall.

He guided me inside and made me sit.

"What happened?"

"It's not you," I said quickly. "It's me." And then I spilled everything.

"I kept you waiting… and now I gave him hope too. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."

My voice shook. "I don't know how to keep you… without hurting you."

For a moment, he didn't say anything. He just looked at me. Then his fingers brushed my cheek again.

"Mils…"

His voice was softer now, but heavier.

"You don't have to carry all of us like this."

I looked up at him.

"You're not responsible for what we feel."

The words were right. But they didn't make it easier.

"I just…" I swallowed. "I don't want to lose you."

Something flickered in his eyes, but quickly gone. But I saw it.

He smiled after that. A little too easily.

"You won't."

I wanted to believe him. But something about the way he said it made it feel like he was convincing himself, too.

"He is not okay. I could sense it. But how can I help him?"

He turned away for a second. Just a second. Then he exhaled and looked back at me again.

"Anyway," he said, smiling, "I think I figured something out."

"What?"

"That you’re not my type."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I want someone fun. Not someone who cries this much."

He chuckled, of course, fakely.

I hit his arm instantly.

"That started after you came into my life."

"So I should leave?"

"No!" The answer came too fast. Too real.

His eyes on me went warm, just for a moment. Then he smiled again.

"Relax. I'm not going anywhere."

Something in my chest loosened. Not fully, but enough.

"Come on," he said suddenly.

"Where?"

"You'll see."

A few minutes later, we were outside in his garage.

He dragged a bike out quietly. And then I saw it. A Harley-Davidson.

I stared at him. "You had this all along?"

"Yeah… waiting for the right night."

I didn't ask what that meant. Maybe I was afraid of the answer.

We walked the bike a little distance before starting it.

The engine roared to life. The night air felt colder.

I sat behind him, holding on. Not too tight, not too loose, just enough like everything was between us.

And as we rode into the empty streets, I didn't know what we were anymore. Friends. Almost lovers. Or something in between.

But for that moment, I didn't try to define it. I just… stayed. I just cherished the moment.