Chapter 9: The Empty Seat
1476 Words
"The loneliness never actually left."
I stared at the message for a long time.
Long enough for the screen to dim.
Long enough for my stomach to start twisting.
Long enough for me to begin wondering whether the anonymous sender was right.
I hated that thought.
Because if they were right, then what did that say about everything else?
What did it say about Benjamin?
About me?
About the happiness I'd been holding onto for the past few weeks?
I quickly locked my phone and tossed it onto my bed.
No.
I wasn't doing this again.
I wasn't going to let some mysterious stranger convince me that my entire relationship was a mistake.
I wasn't going to sit there and overthink every little thing.
I was happy.
Wasn't I?
The question followed me all the way into sleep.
---
The next morning, I woke up feeling strangely restless.
Not sad.
Not exactly.
Just unsettled.
The kind of feeling you get when something is bothering you but you can't quite figure out what it is.
Breakfast came and went.
School came and went.
The morning classes passed in a blur.
By lunchtime, I was looking forward to seeing Benjamin.
Partly because I missed him.
Partly because being around him usually made the uncomfortable thoughts disappear.
I grabbed my tray and headed toward our usual table.
But when I got there, Benjamin wasn't there.
I frowned.
That was unusual.
He was almost always early.
Maybe he was running late.
I sat down and waited.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Still nothing.
I checked my phone.
No messages.
No explanation.
Nothing.
Around me, the cafeteria buzzed with conversations and laughter.
The familiar feeling started creeping back into my chest.
The one I thought I'd left behind.
Loneliness.
I hated how quickly it returned.
---
Fifteen minutes into lunch, my phone finally buzzed.
A message from Benjamin.
Relief washed over me immediately.
Until I opened it.
Busy. Sitting with friends today. Sorry.
I stared at the message.
That's all?
No explanation.
No "I'll see you later."
No "Are you okay?"
Just that.
I quickly typed back.
Oh. Okay.
The reply never came.
For the first time in weeks, I was sitting alone at lunch again.
And somehow, it felt worse than before.
Because before Benjamin, being alone had been normal.
Now it felt like losing something.
I looked around the cafeteria.
Across the room, I spotted him.
Benjamin was sitting with a large group of older students.
They were laughing about something.
One of them slapped him on the shoulder.
Another nearly fell out of their chair laughing.
Benjamin looked completely relaxed.
Completely happy.
Completely unaware that I was watching.
For some reason, my chest hurt.
Not because he was with his friends.
Because I suddenly felt stupid.
Maybe I had become too dependent on him.
Maybe I had started expecting too much.
Maybe—
My thoughts stopped when I noticed something strange.
Benjamin looked in my direction.
For a second, our eyes met.
Then he immediately looked away.
And continued talking to his friends.
Something about that moment bothered me.
I couldn't explain why.
It just did.
---
The rest of lunch felt endless.
I picked at my food.
Scrolled through my phone.
Watched students move from table to table.
Nobody sat with me.
Nobody spoke to me.
And the worst part?
I realized something.
Even after all these weeks, I still didn't really have friends.
Not close ones.
Not people I could call.
Not people who would notice if I disappeared for a day.
I had Benjamin.
And somehow, I had allowed my entire social world to shrink until it revolved around him.
The realization was uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
---
After lunch, I headed toward class.
As I walked down the hallway, I heard someone call my name.
"Alicia."
I turned around.
A girl was jogging toward me.
For a second, I didn't recognize her.
Then I remembered.
Stephanie.
One of the girls who had once asked me for help with History.
"Hey," she said.
"Hi."
For a moment, we stood there awkwardly.
Then Stephanie smiled.
"I haven't seen you around much lately."
I laughed softly.
"I've been around."
"You know what I mean."
Actually, I did.
And that made me feel guilty.
Because she was right.
Ever since Benjamin entered my life, I had slowly stopped paying attention to everyone else.
"I guess I've been busy."
Stephanie nodded.
Then she hesitated.
As if she wanted to say something else.
But changed her mind.
"Anyway, I'll see you later."
Before leaving, she smiled again.
And for some reason, that small interaction stayed with me for the rest of the day.
---
That evening, Benjamin texted me like nothing had happened.
Benjamin: Guess who failed a surprise quiz today.
Me: You?
Benjamin: How did you know?
Me: Educated guess.
Benjamin: That's rude.
Normally, I would have laughed.
Normally, I would have teased him.
Instead, I found myself typing a different question.
Me: Why didn't you sit with me today?
The typing bubble appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally:
Benjamin: I told you. I was with friends.
Me: Yeah, I know.
A pause.
Then:
Benjamin: Are you upset?
I stared at the message.
Was I?
Maybe.
A little.
But it wasn't really about lunch.
It was about what lunch had shown me.
How alone I still was.
How fragile my happiness actually felt.
After a moment, I typed:
Me: No. Just asking.
Benjamin: Good.
The answer felt oddly cold.
I couldn't explain why.
---
Later that night, I sat on my bed staring out the window.
The neighborhood was quiet.
The sky was dark.
And for the first time in weeks, I felt exactly the way I used to feel before Benjamin came into my life.
Alone.
Not because nobody was around me.
Because I suddenly realized how much of myself I had handed over to one person.
One person's attention.
One person's approval.
One person's presence.
And that scared me.
Because what if one day he stopped choosing me?
The thought settled heavily in my chest.
Before I could push it away, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I immediately reached for it.
The message was short.
Painfully short.
"Did you notice he only leaves you alone when his friends are around?"
I swallowed.
A second message arrived.
"Ask yourself why."
For the first time since the messages had started, I didn't immediately tell myself the sender was wrong.
And that scared me more than the message itself.
- Writer
