Chapter 8 — Things Left Unsaid
439 Words
A week later, rain started pouring heavily while Jerinah and Drecel sat under the small waiting shed near the park.
The weather was cold enough to make the air feel heavier.
Jerinah hugged her knees slightly while watching the rain fall against the streets.
“I hate this weather,” she muttered.
“You literally love sad weather.”
“That’s different.”
Drecel smiled faintly.
“You know what I noticed about you?” he suddenly asked.
“That you analyze people too much?”
“That whenever you’re sad, you joke more.”
Jerinah immediately looked away.
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“No, I’m naturally funny.”
“Painfully unfunny sometimes.”
She pushed his shoulder lightly.
“Shut up.”
The rain only grew stronger.
Then suddenly, Drecel spoke again.
“You still think about it every day, don’t you?”
Jerinah froze slightly.
The loss.
The grief.
The person she never properly moved on from.
“…Yeah.”
“How often?”
She gave a weak smile.
“Enough to get tired.”
Drecel stayed quiet.
Jerinah lowered her head slightly.
“Sometimes I get angry at myself,” she admitted. “Because other people already moved forward.”
“That doesn’t mean your healing has a deadline.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Easy to say.”
“No,” he answered softly. “Not easy.”
That made her look at him.
Drecel leaned back while staring at the rain.
“I think people misunderstand grief,” he said quietly. “They think healing means forgetting.”
“And?”
“I think healing means learning how to continue living while carrying the memory.”
The sentence stayed inside Jerinah’s mind.
Because maybe that was her biggest fear.
Not forgetting.
But moving forward and feeling guilty for it.
“You ever feel scared?” she suddenly asked.
“About what?”
“Getting attached to people.”
Drecel looked at her carefully.
“…Yeah.”
That answer surprised her.
“You do?”
“I know what losing someone feels like too.”
The honesty in his voice felt painfully real.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Jerinah quietly asked,
“Why do you still stay around me?”
Drecel looked confused.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m difficult.”
“You’re hurting,” he corrected softly.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
There it was again.
That calm understanding she kept trying to avoid.
Because every time he said things like that, she felt her walls weakening.
And she did not know if she was ready for that.
- Writer
