Episode 32: The Distance Between Us

Dear Diary,

I thought we were unbreakable. That no matter what, Rei and I would always find our way back to each other. But now, with every passing day, I feel the distance between us growing.

It's been a week.

A week of waiting for things to go back to normal. A week of pretending I wasn't checking my phone every other minute, hoping for a message from her. A week of silences where laughter used to be.

Rei was still there—physically, at least. We still walked to school together, still sat in the same places, still existed in each other's orbit. But it wasn't the same.

She wasn't the same.

She was quieter now, lost in her own world. And whenever I tried to reach out, she pulled away, like I was getting too close to something she wasn't ready to share.

I hated it.

I hated feeling like I was watching us slip away, like I was losing her in real time.

And the worst part?

I didn't know how to fix it.

Lunch felt different now.

We still sat under the oak tree, but the conversations that once flowed so easily now felt like walking on glass—fragile, careful, always on the edge of breaking.

I poked at my food, not really hungry. The silence between us stretched, thick and suffocating.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Rei," I said, forcing my voice to sound steady, "are we okay?"

She froze for a second before setting down her drink. She didn't meet my eyes.

"I don't know," she admitted.

My heart clenched.

I tried to keep my voice from shaking. "Did I do something?"

Her eyes flickered up to meet mine, just for a second, before she looked away again. "No, Gabu. It's not you. It's just… me. I don't know what I'm doing."

The words echoed from our last conversation, but they still hurt just the same.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Then let me help you. Let me be there."

She let out a small, bitter laugh. "That's the thing. I don't even know what I need."

Her words should have made me feel better—should have reassured me that this wasn't about us, that it wasn't something I had done.

But all I felt was helplessness.

Because no matter how much I wanted to help, to fix whatever was wrong, Rei wasn't letting me.

And that terrified me.

The days passed, and things didn't get any better.

We still talked, still saw each other every day. But something was missing.

It was in the way she hesitated before speaking, like she was second-guessing every word.

It was in the way she avoided looking at me too long, like she was afraid of what she might see.

It was in the way my chest ached every time I saw her smile at someone else, because lately, those smiles had stopped being for me.

I was losing her.

And I didn't know how to stop it.

That night, I stared at my phone for what felt like hours, debating whether to text her.

I wanted to say something—anything—to break this unbearable distance between us.

But before I could even type out a message, my phone buzzed.

Rei: "Hey… can we talk?"

My heart nearly stopped.

I stared at the message, my fingers shaking as I typed back.

Me: "Of course. Where?"

Rei: "The park. In 10?"

I didn't hesitate.

Me: "I'll be there."

The park was quiet, the only sounds coming from the distant hum of the city and the soft rustling of the trees.

Rei was already there when I arrived, sitting on the swings, her head tilted back as she looked up at the night sky.

She looked… tired. Like she hadn't been sleeping well. Like she'd been carrying something too heavy for too long.

I hesitated before walking up to her.

She glanced at me and gave a small, tired smile. "Hey."

I sat down on the swing next to her. "Hey."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, Rei took a deep breath. "Gabu… I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to be honest."

I braced myself.

She gripped the swing's chains a little tighter. "I feel like I'm breaking apart."

My breath hitched.

"I don't know why," she continued, her voice quiet. "I don't know when it started. But lately, everything feels… too much. Like I can't breathe. Like I'm losing control of myself."

Her voice wavered, and for the first time in days, I saw the real Rei—the one who was scared, the one who was struggling.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Rei… why didn't you tell me sooner?"

She let out a shaky breath. "Because I didn't want you to worry. Because I thought I could handle it. But I can't."

I reached out, hesitating for only a second before taking her hand in mine. She stiffened, but didn't pull away.

"You don't have to do this alone," I whispered.

She finally looked at me, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw something real in her eyes.

Vulnerability.

Relief.

A silent plea.

I squeezed her hand gently. "We'll figure it out together, okay?"

Rei let out a shaky laugh, blinking rapidly. "Yeah… okay."

And for the first time in a week, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I wasn't losing her after all.

Love,

Gabu