Chapter 8 – What We Don’t Say

The first time Maya ran into Caleb after their party talk, she pretended not to see him.

It wasn't that she was avoiding him exactly—it was more like she was avoiding the way her stomach fluttered when he smiled at her. That wasn't supposed to happen when you were in love with someone else.

But the universe, as it turned out, didn't care.

He caught up to her outside the library. "Maya, right?"

She stopped. "Yeah."

"I was beginning to think I'd hallucinated you."

She gave a tight smile. "Nope. Unfortunately, very real."

"You dropped this the other night." He handed her a purple pen she hadn't even realized was missing. "I figured it might be special or something."

"It is," she said before she could stop herself. "It's the one I used to write my college essay. Lucky ink."

"Then I'm glad I found it."

They stood there, a little too long, a little too close.

"Thanks," she said, taking the pen and tucking it into her bag. "I should get to class."

"Right. Well, maybe I'll see you around."

She nodded.

And she walked away with a heart that suddenly felt messier than it should.

Liam's next letter was shorter than usual.

 "Work's slowing down. Finally. I might drive out in two weeks if you're free. I miss your face. And your laugh. And that weird thing you do where you put ketchup on your mac and cheese."

There was no "I love you" this time.

Maya didn't know if it was on purpose. But she noticed.

She wrote back anyway.

 "I'm free. Always for you."

But even as she sealed the envelope, a small voice inside whispered, Are you really?

Zoey noticed.

"Okay," she said one night, pausing their rom-com marathon. "You've either been bitten by a vampire and are slowly losing your soul, or something's off with you and Liam."

Maya sighed. "I don't know what we are right now."

Zoey muted the TV. "You love him?"

"Yes."

"But?"

"I'm just… learning new parts of myself here. And sometimes I don't know how those parts fit with the girl he knew back home."

"Maybe they don't. And maybe that's okay."

Maya blinked. "That's terrifying."

Zoey grinned. "Welcome to college, honey."

The night Liam visited, the air smelled like fall.

Maya waited by the fountain near her dorm, jacket zipped up to her chin, heart thudding like it was the first date all over again.

When she saw him—hands in his pockets, hoodie pulled over his curls, that familiar Liam slouch—everything inside her twisted.

He looked older. Tired. Beautiful.

"Maya."

She hugged him so tightly, she felt him exhale against her shoulder.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"I missed you too."

They spent the weekend like they were chasing something they couldn't name.

Walking the quad with pumpkin lattes. Lying under campus trees, sharing stories about students who walked by. Sneaking into an empty lecture hall and pretending to be professors.

They didn't talk about the weird silences. Or the fading "I love yous."

Until Sunday.

He sat on her bed, fingers twisting the drawstring of his hoodie.

"I saw your name in Caleb's comment thread on Insta."

She froze.

"Not stalking," he added quickly. "It just popped up. He posted something about a lecture, and you… laughed."

Maya stared at the floor. "It was a joke."

"Was it?"

She looked up, eyes burning. "What are you trying to say?"

"I don't know." His voice cracked. "I guess I just… thought this was still us. But sometimes it feels like I'm trying to hold onto something that's already halfway gone."

"That's not fair."

"Maybe not. But it's honest."

Tears pricked her eyes.

"I haven't done anything, Liam."

"I know."

"But you still don't trust me."

He looked wrecked. "I'm scared, Maya. Of losing you. Of not being enough now that you're growing into someone bigger than Maplewood."

She crossed the room and knelt in front of him, taking his hands.

"You're not losing me," she said. "But if we don't start telling each other the hard things, we will."

He looked at her for a long time.

Then he whispered, "I'm willing to fight for us. Are you?"

She nodded. "Always."

They didn't kiss right away.

They just sat there—knees touching, eyes locked, truth hanging between them like a fragile ribbon.

And for the first time in weeks, it felt like something real was beginning again.