Chapter 217: Growing Distance

Chapter 217: Growing Distance
Chapter 217: Growing Distance

SERENA'S POV

The laptop screen shows 8:47 PM, and still no call from Damon. I refresh my messages for the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, hoping to see some explanation for his silence, but there's nothing. Just the growing hollow ache in my chest that's become my constant companion over the past three weeks.

When my phone finally buzzes at 9:23, I practically lunge for it, desperate to see his face and hear his voice after what feels like an eternity.

"Hey, beautiful," Damon says when the video call connects, but his smile looks strained around the edges. Behind him, I can see his dorm room—messy, with textbooks scattered across his desk and what looks like pizza boxes stacked in the corner.

"Hi," I say, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. "I was starting to worry something had happened to you."

Damon runs a hand through his hair, and I notice it looks different—longer, more styled, like he's actually putting effort into his appearance for people who aren't me. "I'm so sorry, Serena. I got caught up studying with some people from my economics class, and time just got away from me."

"Some people?" I ask, hating how small and needy my voice sounds.

"Yeah, there's this study group that meets in the library. Really smart kids—there's this girl Madison who's basically a genius at statistics, and this guy Trevor who—" He stops mid-sentence when he sees my expression. "What's wrong?"

Everything, I want to scream. Everything is wrong. Instead, I force a smile that feels like it might crack my face. "Nothing. I'm just tired. Tell me about your day."

But even as he launches into stories about his professors and assignments, I can see him glancing at something off-screen. His attention feels divided, scattered, like he's only giving me part of himself while the rest of his mind is somewhere else entirely.

"—and then Professor Martinez assigned this massive research project that's due next Friday, so I'll probably be pulling some all-nighters this week," he's saying, and my heart sinks even further.

"So our calls might be even shorter?" I ask, unable to keep the disappointment from bleeding into my voice.

Damon's face softens with guilt. "I'm trying my best here, Serena. I really am. But this workload is insane, and if I don't keep up—"

"I know," I interrupt, because hearing him explain why I'm not a priority hurts more than the silence. "I understand. You have to focus on school."

"It's not that you're not important," he says quickly, reaching toward the camera as if he could touch me through the screen. "You're the most important thing in my life. But I also can't fail out of college."

We talk for another fifteen minutes, but it feels forced and awkward, like we're both trying too hard to recapture something that's slipping away from us. When he finally has to go—another study session, another obligation that doesn't include me—I close my laptop and stare at the blank screen for a long time.

The next few days follow the same pattern. Shortened calls, cancelled video chats, text messages that take hours to be answered. Each missed connection feels like another small rejection, another sign that Damon is building a life that doesn't have space for me in it.

By Thursday, I feel so down and weak and neglected that it's hard to get out of bed. I hover in what feels like an endless pit of sorrow, going through the motions of attending classes and eating meals but not really participating in my own life. Luna and Cassidy try to cheer me up, but their efforts only make me feel more isolated because I can't explain why I'm falling apart without admitting how pathetic I've become.

I begin to miss Damon with an intensity that's almost physical, like someone has carved out a piece of my chest and left me bleeding internally. Sometimes I catch myself staring at my phone, willing it to ring, willing him to call me just because he wants to hear my voice, not because it's our scheduled time to check in with each other.

The cafeteria feels like a minefield of social interactions I'm not equipped to handle. I grab a sandwich I don't want and look around for somewhere to sit where I can disappear into the background. That's when I see Gabriel at a table in the corner, reading what looks like a very old, leather-bound book.

He looks up as if he can sense my gaze, and when our eyes meet across the crowded room, something in his expression makes my chest tighten. Not with the electric attraction I've been trying to ignore, but with something that looks dangerously close to understanding.

Before I can change my mind, he's closing his book and walking toward me with that fluid grace that makes him stand out in a crowd of clumsy teenagers.

"You look like you could use some company," Gabriel says when he reaches me, his voice gentle and free of the pity I've been getting from everyone else.

I want to say no, want to maintain some distance between us because every interaction we have feels like a betrayal of Damon. But the truth is, I'm so lonely and desperate for genuine connection that I find myself nodding.

"Would you like to sit outside?" he asks. "It's a beautiful day, and the cafeteria feels rather suffocating today, don't you think?"

We find a quiet spot under one of the large oak trees that border the school courtyard. Gabriel doesn't push me to talk, doesn't ask invasive questions about why I look like I haven't slept in days. Instead, he simply sits beside me and offers a comfortable silence that feels like the first peace I've experienced in weeks.

"He's pulling away from you," Gabriel says eventually, his voice so quiet I almost don't hear him.

I turn to stare at him, my defenses immediately rising. "What?"

"Your boyfriend," Gabriel clarifies, those green eyes of his seeing far too much. "He's building a new life, making new connections. And you're afraid that you're becoming a duty rather than a desire."

The accuracy of his observation hits me like a physical blow, and I have to look away to hide the tears that spring to my eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know the look of someone who's being slowly abandoned," Gabriel says with a gentleness that makes my heart crack open a little wider. "I know what it feels like to love someone who's moving beyond your reach."

"I'm not being abandoned," I say, but the words sound hollow even to me. "Damon loves me. He's just busy with school."

Gabriel nods thoughtfully. "I'm sure he does love you. But love isn't always enough to bridge the gap between two people who are growing in different directions."

The truth in his words makes me want to scream, but I can't deny the relief I feel at having someone acknowledge what I've been trying not to think about for weeks.

"What am I supposed to do?" I whisper, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

Gabriel turns to face me fully, and there's something in his expression that makes my breath catch. "You could stop waiting for someone else to choose you," he says softly. "You could remember that you're worthy of being someone's first priority, not their obligation."

The way he's looking at me makes me feel seen in a way I haven't felt since Damon left. Like I'm not just a needy girlfriend pining for attention, but someone valuable and worth choosing. It's intoxicating and terrifying and completely inappropriate given that I'm supposedly in love with someone else.

"Gabriel," I start, but he shakes his head.

"I'm not trying to influence your decisions, Serena. I'm simply reminding you that you have choices. You don't have to settle for scraps of someone's attention when you deserve their full devotion."

As we sit there under the oak tree, with Gabriel's words echoing in my mind and the weight of his understanding settling around me like a warm blanket, I realize something that makes my stomach twist with guilt: for the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe again.

And that terrifies me more than anything else, because feeling better shouldn't depend on someone who isn't Damon making me feel worthy of love.