The dance of distance

In the days following their conversation, Emma couldn't help but feel the weight of the unspoken words hanging between her and Lily. It wasn't that anything had changed outwardly—Lily still showed up at the lake, still spent time with Emma, and still seemed to care. But the invisible wall between them felt taller now, thicker. The easy camaraderie that had existed before their conversation seemed to have evaporated, replaced with an uneasy distance that neither of them knew how to close.

Emma had always prided herself on her ability to read people. She was good at understanding when someone was upset, when they were hiding something, or when they simply needed space. But with Lily, it was different. Lily's emotions were like a riddle she couldn't solve. One minute, they'd be laughing together, and the next, there would be a quiet, palpable shift in the air, a weight pressing down on them that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

Emma tried to push through the distance, but every time she reached out, it felt like her hand was brushing against a wall. Lily would smile, but it was more strained than it had been before. She would laugh, but there was an edge of nervousness to it. Emma tried not to take it personally, but it was hard not to. It was hard not to wonder if this was the beginning of the end—if the fragile connection they had built was starting to crumble under the pressure of everything they hadn't yet said.

One evening, Emma was sitting by the lake, her sketchbook open in front of her but her mind far from the drawing. She had stopped trying to capture the sunset—her mind was too cluttered with thoughts of Lily, the way the air between them had shifted, the way things no longer felt as simple as they once had.

She heard footsteps behind her, soft and hesitant, and knew immediately who it was. Lily.

"Hey," Emma said, not looking up at first. Her voice felt thicker than she intended, but she didn't know how to hide it. "I thought you might show up."

Lily didn't say anything at first, just sat down beside Emma, her gaze lingering on the water. Emma could see the profile of her face, the way the light hit her features, and she couldn't help but feel a pang in her chest. There was something beautiful about the way Lily looked in the fading sunlight, but there was also something painfully distant about it. The girl who used to smile with ease, the girl who had laughed without a care—now, that girl felt out of reach.

"Are you okay?" Lily asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Emma's heart clenched at the question. She wasn't okay. She didn't know how to be okay when the person she cared about most seemed so far away. But she didn't want to admit that to Lily—not yet. Not when she still didn't have the answers she needed.

"Yeah," Emma lied. "I'm fine. Just... thinking."

Lily turned her head slightly, studying Emma's face. "I don't want to make things weird between us," she said softly, her eyes searching Emma's. "But I can feel it too, you know? That things are different. And I don't know what to do about it."

The words hit Emma like a ton of bricks. She had been feeling the same way, but hearing Lily admit it out loud made it somehow more real, more impossible to ignore. She felt a tightness in her throat, the urge to say something, but she couldn't find the words. It was like everything she wanted to say was tangled up, stuck just beyond her reach.

"I don't know how to fix it," Emma admitted, finally looking at Lily. Her voice was small, but the vulnerability in it made her feel exposed. "I don't know what we're doing, or where we're going, and it scares me."

Lily nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "I'm scared too. I don't want to lose you. But I don't want to rush into something I'm not sure about either. I just... need time."

Emma's heart sank. She knew that Lily was being honest, but it didn't make the words any easier to hear. She wanted to reach out, to pull Lily closer, to make everything feel normal again, but something was holding her back. She could feel it—an invisible divide that neither of them knew how to cross.

"Time," Emma repeated, her voice barely audible. "Yeah, I get that. I do. But how much time is enough, Lily? I don't know how long I can keep waiting around, pretending like everything's fine when it's not."

Lily turned to face her fully now, her eyes soft but full of sadness. "I don't want you to wait around, Emma. I don't want you to feel like you have to. But I need you to understand that this isn't easy for me. It's not like I don't want to be with you. It's just... complicated. And I don't know how to make it easier."

The pain in Lily's voice made Emma's chest tighten. She had known it wouldn't be easy, but hearing the weight of Lily's emotions made everything feel more fragile than ever. Emma wanted to believe that things could work out, that they could make it through this rough patch. But the truth was, she was beginning to wonder if they ever could.

"I'm not asking for everything to be perfect," Emma said quietly, her voice shaking a little. "I just want to know where we stand. I don't want to keep feeling like I'm walking on eggshells, like I'm just waiting for you to pull away."

Lily reached out slowly, her hand brushing against Emma's. The touch was light, hesitant, but it sent a jolt through Emma's body, as if a spark had ignited between them. "I don't want to pull away," Lily whispered, her voice trembling. "But I'm scared, Emma. I'm scared of everything being too much, too soon. I don't know if I'm ready to be that open, that vulnerable with anyone."

Emma looked at their intertwined fingers, the way their hands seemed to fit together so perfectly, despite the space between their hearts. "I don't want you to feel like you have to rush into anything," Emma said softly. "I just... I just want to know that we're still going to be okay. That you're still here with me, even if we don't have all the answers."

Lily's grip tightened ever so slightly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Emma felt like they were on the same page. Like maybe, just maybe, they could find their way through this distance—one step at a time.

"I'm here," Lily said, her voice steady now. "I promise. I just need a little more time to figure out what comes next."

Emma nodded, a small sigh escaping her lips. It wasn't the resolution she had hoped for, but it was enough for now. Enough to keep her going. For a moment, she let the silence settle between them, not uncomfortable, but filled with the unspoken understanding that they both had their own battles to fight. And for now, they would fight them together.

As the sun dipped lower, casting the lake in a golden glow, Emma leaned back against the grass, feeling Lily's warmth beside her. They didn't have all the answers. They didn't know what the future held. But for now, they were here, together, and that was enough.