Chapter 62: Between the Lines
"Sometimes, it's not distance that creates space between two hearts—
it's silence."
Dear Diary,
Something felt off today.
Not dramatically, not like thunder or slammed doors,
but like the hush before a storm that may or may not come.
The kind that creeps in slowly—
a wrinkle in the smooth fabric of routine.
It started with Jia.
She wasn't waiting by the gate this morning.
Usually, she's the one who yells "Wunor, run!" when the prefects are checking tardiness.
But today, nothing.
When I finally found her in class, she was sitting with Teni and flipping through a magazine.
"Hey," I said, trying to keep it casual.
"Hey," she replied, eyes still on the page.
The pause after that hey felt longer than the entire math class.
I know Jia.
She doesn't do passive aggression.
She doesn't sulk or play games.
But she does go quiet when something is hurting.
And today, her silence screamed louder than any words could.
Later, during break, I offered her part of my biscuit.
She took it, said thanks.
Then added, with the smile that didn't quite reach her eyes:
"You and the new guy — very... cozy these days."
My heart twitched.
"Jia, it's not like I've forgotten you."
"You didn't forget me," she said, shrugging. "You just… paused me."
I didn't know what to say.
Because she wasn't wrong.
He came to sit with us again during lunch, but the air was wrong.
The kind of wrong that makes everything taste bland, even fried rice.
Jia made polite jokes.
He laughed.
I smiled like I wasn't unraveling on the inside.
After lunch, she didn't walk with me.
She said she had to help the art teacher with something.
I didn't believe her.
After school, I found her by the back of the library —
the place we used to go when we needed to cry without judgment.
I sat beside her and said nothing.
She didn't look at me.
Finally, she whispered:
"You used to tell me everything. Even the dumb dreams."
"I still want to."
"But now you whisper things to him. You text him during classes we used to pass notes in."
I blinked hard.
"I didn't mean to make you feel replaced."
She finally turned to me.
Her eyes were glassy.
"You didn't replace me. You just… started shining your light somewhere else. And I wasn't ready to share it."
My throat burned.
"You'll always be my safe place, Jia.
He's part of my story now…
But you're the pages that got me here."
She smiled, small and trembling.
"I'm just scared," she said. "What if one day, I'm not in the chapters at all?"
I leaned my head on her shoulder.
"You're not a chapter, Jia.
You're the ink."
Dear Diary,
We don't talk about how friendship can break your heart, too.
How it can ache when someone you love is being pulled into someone else's orbit.
But we talked.
We cried a little.
Laughed a lot more.
And when we walked home — just the two of us this time —
the silence was soft again.
Not heavy.
Not sharp.
Just… quiet.
Like an apology accepted.
Like a bond rethreading itself, stitch by golden stitch.
Tonight, he texted me:
"I know today wasn't your brightest. Just wanted to say: I see you."
And Jia sent me a selfie of her in a face mask,
with the caption:
"Don't forget who knew you before your boyfriend's brooding eyes existed."
I smiled so wide, it hurt.
Because love is love —
but friendship?
Friendship is the soil that everything grows from.
And I'll keep watering both.
Wunor 🌧️🌷📖