LOVELORNED (CHAPTER FOUR)
581 Words
Chapter 4: The Question
The hallway of my dorm smelled like ramen and laundry detergent.
And Caleb Reed.
He still smelled like rain and that terrible hot chocolate from 5th Street.
Four years. And my brain remembered.
Kayla was pretending to scroll t****k on the couch.
But I could see her eyes flicking to us every 2 seconds.
“Can we talk somewhere private?” Caleb asked.
He was holding the red umbrella in one hand. The green envelope in the other.
Like he’d been practicing this moment.
“No,” I said.
His face fell.
“I mean… not in my dorm,” I corrected. “Too many people.”
He nodded. Relief.
“Coffee shop? Down the street? 10 minutes?”
I should’ve said no.
Rule #1: Broken boys break you back.
Rule #2: Don’t reopen wounds just because the person holding the knife says sorry.
“10 minutes,” I said.
The coffee shop was empty. Tuesday afternoon.
We sat by the window. He pushed the red umbrella to my side of the table.
I didn’t touch it.
“So,” I said. “Famous author now?”
He flinched. “I didn’t do it for that.”
“Then why?”
“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
The green envelope sat between us. Unopened.
“Start with Navy Pier,” I said. My voice was steady. Four years of therapy paid off.
“Why didn’t you come?”
Caleb dragged a hand through his hair. He looked tired. Older.
“My dad,” he said. “He found the poems. The ones I told you about. He… he lost it. Said I was embarrassing the family. Said if I kept seeing ‘that charity case girl’ he’d cut me off. Tuition. House. Everything.”
My chest tightened.
“And you believed him?”
“I was 17, Maya. I was scared.”
“So you ghosted me instead?”
“I tried to call,” he said quickly. “A hundred times. Your number was disconnected. I went to your house. Your mom said you moved. No forwarding address.”
He picked up the envelope. “I wrote you letters. Every week for a year. This is the last one.”
He slid it across the table.
I stared at it. Green. Messy handwriting. Maya.
My name in his handwriting after 4 years.
“Why the book?” I asked.
“Because I had to get it out,” he said. “And because… because I hoped you’d see it. I hoped you’d know I never stopped being sorry.”
Silence.
The espresso machine hissed.
He looked up at me. Those green eyes. Still swollen when he’s emotional.
“Maya,” he said.
“Can we try again?”
The question hung there.
Can we try again?
Four years of healing.
Four years of building walls.
And one sentence and I’m 17, standing in the rain with an umbrella.
My phone buzed.
Kayla: “Girl. He’s trending #1 on t****k right now. And his ex just posted about him.”
I looked at the screen.
A photo. Caleb. At a party. Arm around a blonde girl.
Caption: “Miss us? @calebreed”
Posted 2 hours ago.
I put the phone down.
Looked at him.
Looked at the envelope.
“Try again?” I said.
“How about you start by telling me who she is?”
TO BE CONTINUED...
Chapter 5: The Blonde Girl
- Writer
