The Things Left Unsaid

The days passed, and the space between them only grew.

Caesar told himself it didn't matter.

He convinced himself that it was fine if Blythe didn't talk to him, if she walked past him in the hallways without a glance, if she had erased him from her life piece by piece without saying a single word.

It wasn't like they were fighting anymore.

They weren't anything anymore.

And somehow, that felt worse.

He tried to distract himself, filling his time with people who had only started noticing him recently, with invitations to hangouts and parties that he never used to be part of. He was supposed to be having fun, wasn't he?

So why did it all feel so empty?

---

Blythe sat in the library after school, alone.

She used to like the quiet, but lately, it just made her feel hollow.

She had spent months trying to hold on, trying to make Caesar care, trying to tell herself that he would wake up one day and realize what he was doing—what he was losing.

But he never did.

And she was exhausted.

She didn't even have the energy to be angry anymore.

She just wanted to move on.

And maybe, if she told herself that enough times, it would actually start to feel true.

Her fingers skimmed over the pages of her book, eyes moving across the words without really reading them. She was too distracted, too caught up in her thoughts to focus.

That was when she heard his voice.

"Didn't think you'd still be here."

She froze.

For a moment, she considered pretending she hadn't heard him. Maybe if she ignored him, he would walk away. Maybe he would take the hint that she didn't want to do this anymore.

But she was tired of pretending.

Slowly, she looked up.

Caesar stood a few feet away, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his usual confidence dulled into something unreadable. His hair was slightly messy, like he had run his hands through it too many times.

Like he wasn't sure what he was doing here.

Her chest ached in a way she didn't want to acknowledge.

"What do you want, Caesar?" she asked, voice quiet but steady.

He hesitated, as if he wasn't sure himself.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Blythe let out a small, humorless laugh. "Figures."

Caesar frowned. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"That." He gestured vaguely. "Act like I'm some kind of—" He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. "Like I don't care about you at all."

Something inside her snapped.

She closed her book with a sharp thud, sitting up straighter. "If you really cared, I wouldn't have to wonder."

The words hung between them, sharp and final.

Caesar flinched.

For a second, just a second, his mask slipped. She saw the flicker of something in his expression—guilt, maybe. Regret.

But it was too late for that now.

She shook her head, standing up. "You don't get to do this, Caesar."

He blinked. "Do what?"

"Act like you're the one who's confused. Act like you don't understand why things are the way they are." Her voice wavered slightly, but she pushed forward. "I tried. I tried to fix this. To fix us. And you didn't care. You were too busy with your new friends, too busy with your new life, and you didn't even notice that I was slipping away."

Caesar inhaled sharply, like he wanted to argue. But he didn't.

Because he knew she was right.

Blythe took a shaky breath. "So don't come here now, looking at me like that. Like you miss me. Because if you did, you should have said something sooner."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated herself for it.

Hated that he still had the power to make her feel this way.

Hated that she still cared.

Caesar swallowed, looking down for a moment. His hands curled into fists at his sides, like he was trying to hold something back.

"…I don't know how to fix this," he said quietly.

Blythe's heart clenched.

She had spent so long waiting for those words.

But now that they were here, now that he was standing in front of her, looking lost and unsure, she realized—

She wasn't waiting anymore.

She was done.

She shook her head, eyes stinging. "Maybe you don't." Her voice was soft, resigned. "And maybe that's the problem."

She turned before he could say anything else, before he could try to stop her.

And for the second time, she walked away.

And for the second time, Caesar let her go.

But this time, something told him—

She wasn't coming back.