Chapter 213: Digital Love

Chapter 213: Digital Love
Chapter 213: Digital Love

SERENA'S POV

The blue glow of my laptop screen illuminates my face as I wait for Damon's call, my heart racing with the same anticipation I've felt every night for the past two weeks. It's become our ritual—nine o'clock sharp, no matter what else is happening in our lives. I've arranged my entire schedule around these precious moments of connection.

My phone buzzes with a text from him: Running five minutes late. Organic chemistry study group went over. Miss you.

I type back quickly: It's okay. I'll wait forever if I have to.

But even as I send the message, something tight and uncomfortable settles in my stomach. This is the third time this week he's been late, and each delay feels like another small crack in the foundation of what we're trying to build across the distance.

When his face finally appears on my screen, pixelated and slightly delayed, my heart does its familiar leap. Even through the imperfect video quality, he's still beautiful—his dark hair slightly messed from running his hands through it, his eyes tired but lighting up when he sees me.

"Hey, beautiful," he says, and the sound of his voice makes me smile despite the loneliness that's become my constant companion.

"Hey yourself," I reply, settling back against my pillows. "How was your day?"

"Exhausting," he admits, rubbing his eyes. "I have so much reading to catch up on, and my roommate's girlfriend is here again. They're not exactly quiet."

I try to keep my expression neutral, but something cold and sharp twists in my chest at the mention of his roommate's girlfriend. It's not jealousy exactly, but something darker—the growing awareness of how much of his life I'm not part of anymore.

"What about you?" he asks. "How was school?"

"Fine," I say automatically, then immediately hate myself for the lie. Nothing has been fine since he left. Everything feels muted and gray without him here, but how do I explain that without sounding pathetic and clingy?

"Just fine?" He raises an eyebrow, and I can see concern creeping into his expression. "You look tired."

"I'm okay," I insist, but my voice comes out smaller than I intended. "Luna and Cassidy are trying to get me to join the drama club. They think I need more activities to keep me busy."

"That sounds like a great idea," he says, and there's something in his tone that makes me flinch. Relief, maybe? Like he's glad I might have distractions from missing him.

"Do you want me to be distracted?" The question slips out before I can stop it, sharper than I meant it to be.

Damon's face goes still on the screen. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," I say quickly, but it's too late. The damage is done, and I can see confusion and hurt flickering across his features. "I just... sometimes it feels like you're relieved when I have other things to focus on besides missing you."

DAMON'S POV

Her words hit me like a physical blow, and I lean closer to my laptop screen as if I could somehow bridge the distance between us through sheer will.

"Serena, that's not—" I start, but she cuts me off.

"It's okay if you are," she says, her voice getting smaller and more fragile with each word. "I know I'm probably too much sometimes. I know missing you this much isn't healthy."

"You're not too much," I say firmly, my heart breaking at the pain in her voice. "God, Serena, you could never be too much. I miss you every second of every day."

But even as I say it, I know there's a grain of truth in what she's picked up on. Part of me is relieved when she has distractions, because her sadness tears me apart and makes me want to abandon everything here and drive straight back to her. And maybe she can sense that internal conflict through our bond, even across hundreds of miles.

"Then why does it feel like you're pulling away from me?" she asks, and her voice cracks on the last word. "Why does it feel like these calls are becoming a chore for you?"

"They're not a chore," I protest, running my hands through my hair in frustration. "Serena, these calls are the best part of my day. They're the only thing keeping me sane here."

"Then why were you late again? Why do I always feel like I'm competing with your new life for your attention?"

The accusation stings because there's truth in it that I don't want to acknowledge. The academic demands here are intense, and I've been struggling to keep up while also maintaining our nightly calls. Sometimes I do resent the pressure to be "on" for her when I'm exhausted and overwhelmed.

"That's not fair," I say, and I can hear my own voice getting defensive. "You know how demanding this program is. I'm doing my best to balance everything."

"I never asked you to balance me with anything else," she snaps, and now there are tears gathering in her eyes. "I asked you not to forget about me."

SERENA'S POV

"I could never forget about you," Damon says, but his voice sounds distant and tired, and I can see something shuttering in his expression. "But I can't put my entire life on hold either. I have responsibilities here."

"I'm not asking you to put your life on hold," I say, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm. "I'm asking you to remember that I'm part of your life too."

"You are," he insists, but he sounds frustrated now, like I'm being unreasonable. "Serena, we talk every night. I text you throughout the day when I can. What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to want to talk to me," I say, the words tumbling out in a rush of pain and loneliness. "I want you to miss these calls when you can't make them, not be relieved that your schedule is free for once."

"That's not—God, Serena, you're twisting everything I say."

"Am I?" I challenge, wiping angrily at the tears that have started falling. "Because from where I'm sitting, it feels like you're already building a life that doesn't include me."

The silence that follows is deafening. On the screen, I can see Damon struggling with something, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with an emotion I can't quite read.

DAMON'S POV

She's not wrong, and that's what makes this so much worse. I have been building a life here—making friends, joining study groups, exploring the campus and the surrounding city. And some small, guilty part of me has been relieved to have experiences that are just mine, that don't have to be filtered through the lens of our relationship and her absence.

But I don't know how to say that without destroying her completely.

"Maybe," I say slowly, carefully, "we need to figure out how to be okay with having separate experiences. Maybe that's healthy."

The moment the words leave my mouth, I know they're the wrong ones. Serena's face crumples like I've slapped her, and the pain in her eyes is so sharp I have to look away from the screen.

"Separate experiences," she repeats, her voice hollow. "Is that what you want? To be separate from me?"

"That's not what I meant—"

"That's exactly what you meant," she cuts me off, and now she's crying in earnest. "You want space. You want to be free to build your new life without having to worry about the girlfriend back home who can't function without you."

"Serena, please—"

"No," she says, shaking her head violently. "I get it. I understand. You're tired of being tied down by someone who's too weak to handle a little distance."

"You're not weak," I say desperately, leaning toward the camera. "And I don't want to be free of you. I love you."

"Do you?" she asks, and the question is barely a whisper. "Because it doesn't feel like it anymore. It feels like love is just another obligation you have to fit into your busy schedule."

SERENA'S POV

The hurt on his face is immediate and devastating, but I'm too wrapped up in my own pain to care about protecting his feelings. Everything I've been trying not to think about for the past two weeks comes pouring out in a flood of accusations and fears.

"I never said love was an obligation," he says, his voice tight with hurt and anger.

"You didn't have to say it," I reply, my voice shaking. "I can feel it. Every time you're late for our calls, every time you sound relieved to hang up, every time you suggest I find distractions so I won't need you so much."

"Maybe you do need distractions," he says, and the words come out harsher than I think he intended. "Maybe it's not healthy for either of us if your entire world revolves around our relationship."

The statement hits me like a physical blow, and for a moment I can't breathe. He's right, and I hate him for being right. I hate that he can see how pathetic I've become, how small my world has gotten without him in it.

"Fine," I say, my voice deadly calm now. "If that's how you really feel, then maybe we should take a break from these calls. Maybe we should both focus on building our separate lives."

"Serena, don't—"

"Good luck with your organic chemistry," I say, and I can see the panic starting to creep into his expression as he realizes how badly this conversation has gone wrong.

"Wait, please, let's talk about this—"

But I'm already reaching for my laptop, my finger hovering over the end call button. "I love you," I say, because despite everything, it's still true. "But maybe love isn't enough."

I close the laptop before he can respond, cutting off his image mid-word. The silence that follows is absolute and devastating, broken only by the sound of my own ragged breathing and the tears that won't stop falling.

Across the distance that separates us, I wonder if Damon is crying too, and if he's asking himself the same terrible question that's echoing in my mind: What if love really isn't enough?