The worst kind of distance
890 Words
A week later, Ava got accepted into a summer business program in Paris.
The email arrived at exactly 2:14 a.m.
She read it three times before screaming into her pillow.
Then immediately calling Noah.
He answered on the fourth ring, voice groggy. “Ava?”
“I got in.”
Silence.
Ava sat upright in bed smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. “Noah, I got into the Paris program.”
Another pause.
“Oh.”
Her smile faltered slightly.
“Oh?”
“No, I mean—that’s good.”
Good.
Not amazing.
Not I’m proud of you.
Just good.
Ava’s excitement dimmed almost instantly.
“You don’t sound happy.”
“I am happy.”
“You sound half asleep.”
“I was half asleep.”
She stared at the glowing acceptance email on her laptop screen.
Maybe she was overthinking.
Maybe he just needed a second to wake up.
“It’s only six weeks,” she said softly. “And it could help me get into the university program later.”
“Yeah.”
Another short answer.
Ava’s stomach tightened.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
There it was again.
That same distant tone.
Like every conversation between them lately carried invisible tension underneath it.
“Noah.”
“What?”
“Talk to me.”
He exhaled heavily through the phone. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You’ve been acting weird for weeks.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Ava closed her eyes.
People always said communication was important in relationships.
What nobody talked about was how exhausting it became when one person refused to communicate at all.
“I just wanted you to be excited with me,” she admitted quietly.
Noah rubbed his face tiredly in the dark.
He wanted to be excited.
He really did.
But all he could think about was Paris.
Ava thriving there.
Ava realizing there were smarter guys.
Richer guys.
More ambitious guys.
Guys who actually fit into the future she dreamed about.
And suddenly he felt stupid for ever believing someone like her could belong to someone like him forever.
“That’s amazing, Ava,” he said finally.
But by then, the damage was already done.
Because she could hear the emptiness in his voice.
And Ava Laurent had always been good at hearing the truth people tried to hide.
The next day at school, things felt worse.
Noah avoided eye contact during lunch.
Ava barely spoke.
Even their friends noticed.
“You two okay?” Mia asked carefully.
“Fine,” Noah answered immediately.
Ava looked at him.
Funny how the people who said “I’m fine” the most were usually falling apart internally.
After lunch, Ava caught Noah outside near the basketball court.
“Can we talk?”
Noah looked tired already. “About what?”
“Us.”
That word alone made his chest tighten.
Ava stepped closer. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then why does it feel like you’re mad at me for succeeding?”
His expression hardened instantly. “That’s not fair.”
“Then tell me what’s going on.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Noah laughed bitterly under his breath. “Exactly.”
Ava stared at him in disbelief. “What does that mean?”
“It means your life is moving forward and mine’s standing still.”
“That’s not true.”
“It feels true.”
For the first time, Ava saw genuine fear underneath his anger.
Not jealousy.
Fear.
Fear of losing her.
Fear of not being enough.
Fear of being left behind while she chased bigger dreams.
But instead of admitting that vulnerability honestly, Noah turned cold.
Because some people would rather push love away than risk feeling abandoned first.
“You know what the difference between us is?” Noah asked quietly.
Ava frowned.
“You’ve always known exactly who you are.”
The sadness in his voice caught her off guard.
“And you don’t?”
Noah looked away toward the empty basketball court.
“No,” he admitted softly.
For one painful moment, Ava wanted nothing more than to hold him.
To remind him that uncertainty didn’t make him unlovable.
But then he said the one thing that shattered her completely.
“Maybe Paris is good for you.”
Ava blinked slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means maybe you need people who understand your world better.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Painful silence.
Ava’s eyes filled immediately. “Wow.”
“Noah...”
“No, it’s okay,” she interrupted quietly. “I get it now.”
“Ava, that’s not what I meant.”
“But it is.”
She stepped backward slowly.
“You know what hurts the most?” she whispered. “I’ve spent months loving every insecure part of you.”
Noah’s chest tightened.
“And somehow,” Ava continued, tears threatening to fall, “you still think I’d leave you the second I become successful.”
“Ava...”
“That says more about how you see yourself than how I’ve ever loved you.”
Then she walked away before he could respond.
And Noah stood there realizing something terrifying.
He was slowly becoming the reason he lost her.
- Writer
