Invisible Threads

Words Left Unspoken (Yuri’s POV)

Aicy had cornered me yesterday.

There was no dodging, no avoiding, no pretending I was busy. She stood right in front of me, arms crossed, eyes sharp, demanding answers I didn’t have.

I hadn’t responded—not really.

And today, that silence still hung between us.

She wasn’t ignoring me. Not yet. But she wasn’t chasing me down either.

Instead, she was waiting.

For me to say something.

For me to act like I cared.

I did.

I just didn’t know why or how to admit it.

Aicy Still Notices

I didn’t sit with her at lunch again.

It was easier that way—easier than forcing a conversation I wasn’t ready for. But when I glanced across the cafeteria, when I saw her sitting with Bea and the others, I knew she was still waiting.

Because at one point—one brief, unspoken moment—Aicy looked at me.

Not accusing.

Not irritated.

Just expecting something.

Something I didn’t know how to give.

So I looked away.

Again.

And the space between us stayed exactly where it was.

The Walk Home

After school, I walked toward the gate, gripping the strap of my bag a little tighter than usual. The air felt heavier—thicker, like something was pressing down around me, making it harder to focus on anything except the silence that stretched between me and Aicy.

She was ahead of me, talking with Bea. I could hear her laughter, could see the way her gestures were as animated as always, as if nothing was wrong.

But I knew better.

Because when I slowed my steps just slightly, trying to put more distance between us, she noticed.

She turned her head, glanced at me over her shoulder, just for a second.

Like she was waiting for me to catch up.

Like she was giving me the chance to act like I normally would.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, pretended to scroll through something—anything—just so I had an excuse to keep my gaze down.

Aicy didn’t stop walking, didn’t call out to me.

But she exhaled softly, a barely noticeable sigh, before turning back to Bea.

And for some reason, that sigh—that almost silent sound—felt heavier than anything else.

Like disappointment.

Like resignation.

Like a goodbye neither of us wanted to say yet.