His silence

[Music recommendations: Someone you loved by Lewis Capaldi ]

The backstage area thrummed with quiet intensity. Volunteers moved with purpose, their voices blending with the muffled cheers and excitement from the auditorium. Gilbert leaned against a stack of equipment cases, his thoughts distracted as Damon rummaged through a stash of snacks he'd pilfered.

"You sure this is where you want to be?" Damon teased through a mouthful of chips. "I mean, don't they have actual work for volunteers?"

Gilbert barely registered his friend's words. His gaze had locked onto a figure moving near the curtain—a figure he recognized all too well.

Mitchell Lewis.

She hadn't changed much. Her hair was pinned back neatly, a few stray strands framing her sharp yet serene features. Clipboard in hand, she issued quiet instructions to another volunteer, her calm demeanor commanding without needing to raise her voice.

The sight of her struck him harder than he expected, stirring memories he thought he'd buried. Late nights spent talking, her laughter echoing in his mind, the way she'd light up when discussing the children they'd worked with. But now, she seemed like someone untouchable, a distant star he couldn't reach.

"Earth to Gilbert," Damon said, snapping his fingers in front of his friend's face. He followed Gilbert's line of sight and let out a low whistle. "No way. That's her, isn't it? The one who—"

"Don't," Gilbert cut him off sharply, his voice firmer than intended.

Damon smirked. "Alright, man. But you can't just stand here. Go talk to her."

Gilbert hesitated, his heart pounding as Mitchell moved toward the stage props, her focus unwavering. He could feel the weight of Damon's expectant gaze on him, but his feet felt like they were glued to the ground.

Then, as if sensing his presence, Mitchell turned.

Their eyes met.

Her steps faltered, surprise flickering across her face before she masked it with a neutral expression. For a moment, Gilbert thought he saw something deeper—a flicker of recognition, perhaps even regret—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She offered a polite, distant smile and returned her attention to her clipboard.

The moment passed, leaving Gilbert rooted in place, unsure whether to feel relieved or crushed.

"Smooth," Damon quipped, clapping him on the shoulder. "Real smooth."

Before Gilbert could respond, the atmosphere shifted.

A tall, broad-shouldered man strode into view, his confident stride commanding attention. He moved with ease, the backstage chaos parting around him as if he belonged. Gilbert froze, watching as the man approached Mitchell, his hand brushing her elbow with an intimacy that made Gilbert's stomach churn.

The man leaned in, pressing a casual kiss to her cheek. "Hey, baby," he said, his voice rich and dripping with familiarity.

Gilbert felt the ground tilt beneath him. His chest tightened as the hopeful warmth in his gaze faded, replaced by a hollow ache.

Beside him, Damon let out a low whistle. "Shit, man," he muttered, the playful edge gone from his voice.

Gilbert swallowed hard, his throat tight. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he forced himself to look away. *This wasn't supposed to happen.*

Without a word, he turned on his heel and began walking away, his movements stiff and mechanical.

Damon trailed behind him, his usual smirk replaced by a rare look of quiet understanding. "Hey," he started, his voice softer. "She didn't look too happy about it, you know."

Gilbert barked a humorless laugh. "Doesn't matter."

But deep down, it did.

Behind them, Mitchell's gaze lingered on Gilbert's retreating figure. Her professional composure wavered, a hint of something unspoken flickering across her face.

The man beside her said something that pulled her back into the moment. She turned to him with a warm smile, her laughter ringing softly in the charged air.

Gilbert didn't see it. He didn't need to. The image of her with someone else was already burned into his mind, each step away from her feeling heavier than the last.

As the final speaker's voice trailed off, Kamsi exhaled softly, her shoulders easing down from the tension of the event. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the attendance sheet, its crisp texture grounding her amidst the low hum of voices and shuffling feet. The faint scent of ink and paper lingered, blending with the distant laughter of students already spilling out into the night.

A chilled can of soda appeared before her, its condensation leaving a faint ring on the table. Startled, she looked up to see Joe standing there, his usual grin softened by something more tentative, almost hopeful.

"Thought you might need this," he said, his voice casual but carrying a warmth that made her pause.

Kamsi blinked, her dark lashes brushing her cheeks as she shifted her gaze between him and the soda. A flicker of surprise crossed her face before her lips curved into a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes but still carried a quiet sincerity. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice low and steady as she reached for the can.

Their fingers brushed—brief, accidental, but enough to send a jolt up Kamsi's spine. Joe's hand lingered just a moment too long, his breath catching as his gaze settled on her. His eyes, bright and full of unspoken emotion, searched hers, as if hoping for a glimpse of something he wasn't sure was there.

Kamsi's cheeks warmed under his intensity, and she quickly broke the gaze, focusing on the soda in her hand. Her pulse quickened, not just from the spark of the touch but from the confusion it brought. She wasn't sure what she felt—gratitude, awkwardness, or something more—but whatever it was, it lingered like a whisper she couldn't quite make out.

Joe cleared his throat, stepping back slightly. "Anyway, we're heading to the party after this," he said, his tone light but tinged with something more. "You coming?"

Kamsi hesitated, the weight of his question pressing heavier than it should. Her lips parted, but the words caught in her throat. She glanced at him, catching the faint flicker of vulnerability in his expression, and something inside her clenched.

"I think I'll pass," she said finally, her voice soft but resolute.

Joe's smile faltered, just for a moment, before he nodded. "Alright. Maybe next time," he said, his tone easy, but the disappointment in his eyes was unmistakable.

As he walked away, Kamsi's gaze lingered on his retreating figure. For reasons she couldn't explain, her chest felt heavier, as though she had let something slip through her fingers without even knowing what it was.

Across the room, Patricia's laughter cut through the air, drawing attention as she leaned against a table with her friends, Tylee and Camille. Unlike Kamsi, Patricia thrived in the chaos of the crowd. Her heart raced, not from nervousness, but from the thrill of the secret she carried. Seeing Racy J earlier had been everything. She could still feel the brush of his jacket as he passed her, the knowing glance he gave her that seemed to say I see you.

She shifted her weight, her gaze flitting between Tylee and Camille as they chattered about the party. Should she tell them? Her excitement burned at the edges of her composure, but a flicker of doubt held her back. They were her friends, but could they really understand what this moment meant?

Kamsi, meanwhile, sat quietly, Zendaya settling into the chair beside her. "You okay?" Zendaya asked, her voice light but laced with curiosity.

Kamsi nodded, though the corners of her lips trembled slightly. "Just tired," she replied, her tone unconvincing even to herself.

Zendaya smirked, leaning closer. "Girl, don't think I didn't see that little moment with Joe. He's got it bad for you," she teased, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.

Kamsi's cheeks flamed as she shook her head quickly. "It's not like that," she muttered, her eyes darting to where Joe stood, now surrounded by their mutual friends.

"Oh, it's exactly like that," Zendaya said with a wink, her laughter soft but knowing.

Before Kamsi could respond, movement caught her eye. Xavier strode past, his confident gait and broad shoulders cutting effortlessly through the thinning crowd. Kamsi's breath hitched, her heart sinking as his eyes slid over her without a single glance.

Her chest tightened, disappointment settling like a weight in her stomach. She had always known Xavier's indifference, but tonight, it stung more than usual, perhaps because of the quiet attention Joe had given her—the kind of attention she had long hoped Xavier might one day show.

Meanwhile, Patricia's gaze sharpened as she spotted Racy J slipping out a side door. Her heart leapt, and without a word to her friends, she followed, determination blazing in her chest. She didn't need their approval, their permission, or their doubts. Tonight was her chance, and she wasn't about to let it slip away.

As the room cleared, Kamsi sat motionless, the unopened can of soda cool against her palm. Zendaya nudged her playfully, but Kamsi barely noticed. Her thoughts churned—a tangled mess of Joe's quiet persistence, Xavier's obliviousness, and her own restless longing.

Nearby, Joe glanced over his shoulder at Kamsi one last time, his eyes filled with an unspoken question. When she didn't look up, he sighed and turned away, his expression hardening with quiet resolve.

Two women, two lives, and a night teetering on the edge of change. For Kamsi, the spark of something new lingered just out of reach. For Patricia, the chase had already begun.