Chapter 13 After You Walk Away
The world did not stop when I left him.
That was the first thing I learned.
People still laughed. Classes still filled. The sun still rose like nothing had been broken beyond repair. It felt wrong. It felt like everything should have paused, just for a second, to acknowledge what I had done.
But nothing paused.
Everything moved on.
Except me.
The days blurred together after that. I stopped checking my phone. Stopped reading messages. Stopped looking at anything that might carry his name. It was easier that way. Quieter.
But silence did not mean peace.
It meant I heard everything inside my own head louder.
His voice.
His words.
The way he looked at me when I said I was choosing to leave him.
I saw it every time I closed my eyes.
I love you.
I pressed my face into my pillow and forced the memory away. It did not go far.
At my aunt’s house, I moved like a ghost. I helped with small things. I ate when she reminded me. I slept when exhaustion dragged me under. But nothing felt real. It was like I had stepped out of my own life and was watching someone else live it badly.
By the fourth day, Tessa had enough.
She showed up unannounced, walked into my room, and sat on the edge of my bed without asking.
“This is not healing,” she said bluntly.
“I am fine,” I replied.
“You look like you have not felt anything in days.”
“That is the point.”
She crossed her arms. “No. That is avoidance.”
I sighed and sat up slowly. “What do you want me to do.”
“Feel it,” she said. “All of it. The pain. The anger. The regret.”
“I already regret it,” I whispered.
Her expression softened. “Do you regret leaving him or do you regret how it feels.”
Both.
“I did what I had to,” I said instead.
“Did you,” she asked quietly.
I looked away.
She leaned closer. “Lenora, you did not leave because it was right. You left because you were scared.”
“That is not fair,” I said, my voice shaking.
“It is honest,” she replied. “You love him. He loves you. And you let other people decide that it was not enough.”
“I did not let them decide,” I said. “I made a choice.”
“Then why do you look like it is killing you,” she asked.
I had no answer.
Tessa sighed and stood. “You cannot hide here forever.”
“I am not hiding.”
“You are disappearing,” she said. “And that is worse.”
She paused at the door. “For what it is worth, he looks worse than you.”
My heart twisted painfully. “You saw him.”
She nodded. “At practice.”
I looked up. “I thought he was suspended.”
“He was. He is back now,” she said. “But he is not the same.”
I swallowed hard. “What do you mean.”
“He is distracted. Angry. Gets into fights on the ice. Coach benched him twice yesterday.”
Guilt flooded me.
Tessa watched my reaction carefully. “This is not just affecting you.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“Then stop pretending walking away fixed anything.”
She left me alone with that.
That night, I could not sleep again.
I sat by the window, staring out at the quiet street, replaying everything Tessa had said. Maybe I had not fixed anything. Maybe I had just shifted the damage somewhere else.
My phone lay on the nightstand.
I stared at it for a long time.
Then I picked it up.
My fingers hovered over his name.
I could call him.
I could fix this.
I could tell him I made a mistake.
My heart pounded.
Then I remembered Lilibeth’s voice.
You will ruin his life.
My hand dropped.
I placed the phone back down.
No.
I could not go back now.
The next morning, I returned to campus.
Not because I felt ready. Because I needed to prove to myself that I could still exist in the same space without falling apart.
The whispers were still there. Softer now. But not gone.
I kept my head up.
One step at a time.
By the time I reached the main building, I heard shouting.
A crowd had gathered near the athletic center.
My stomach dropped.
Something was wrong.
I pushed through the edge of the crowd until I could see.
Kylen stood in the center.
His jersey was half untucked. His hair damp with sweat. His expression dark and furious. A player from the opposing team stood a few feet away, equally tense.
“Say it again,” Kylen said, his voice low and dangerous.
The other player smirked. “Everyone knows it. You threw away your career for a girl who does not even want you.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Kylen lunged.
The crowd gasped as he shoved the guy back hard. The other player swung. Kylen dodged and grabbed his collar, slamming him against the wall.
“Enough,” Coach shouted, pushing through the crowd.
It took two people to pull Kylen back.
His chest heaved. His fists clenched. His eyes burned with something wild and out of control.
I had never seen him like this.
Broken.
Coach grabbed his arm. “What is wrong with you.”
Kylen did not answer.
His gaze swept the crowd.
And then it found me.
Everything stilled.
For a second, the anger in his eyes flickered into something else.
Pain.
Then it hardened again.
He looked away first.
That hurt more than anything.
Coach dragged him off, muttering about consequences and discipline.
The crowd slowly dispersed.
I stood there, frozen.
Tessa appeared beside me. “You see what I mean.”
I nodded slowly.
“I did this,” I whispered.
“No,” she said. “He is responsible for his actions.”
“But I pushed him here.”
“You are not that powerful,” she replied. “He is hurting because he lost something real.”
I closed my eyes.
“I need to talk to him,” I said.
Tessa shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Why.”
“Because right now, you will not fix him,” she said. “You will just make it worse.”
The truth in her words settled heavily.
That evening, I walked alone again.
The sky was clearer tonight. The air colder.
I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked past the rink.
The lights inside were still on.
I stopped.
For a moment, I considered going in.
Just to see him.
Just to make sure he was okay.
My feet stayed rooted outside.
Because I knew the truth.
If I saw him again, I might not have the strength to walk away a second time.
And that would destroy everything all over again.
So I turned.
And I walked into the night.
Trying to convince myself that staying away was still the right choice.
Even as everything inside me screamed that it was not.