Smiles and Secrets
1259 Words
The engagement pictures felt like punishment to me.
I stood beside him in the middle of the sitting room while our relatives moved around excitedly; adjusting decorations, fixing my hair, and changing positions every few seconds like they were directing a love story.
Meanwhile, all I could think about was how badly I wanted the day to end.
“Stand closer,” my cousin complained again, lowering the phone with frustration. “Why do both of you look like strangers forced to take a passport photograph?”
A few people laughed around us.
I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. After all, we were actually forced.
Beside me, he stayed quiet.
Of course he did.
That calm silence of his had always irritated me. Even years ago, when girls practically followed him around the neighbourhood, he always acted detached, like nothing truly affected him.
Maybe that was why I fell for him back then.
And maybe that was exactly why he ruined me so easily.
“Put your hand around her,” one of my aunties said excitedly.
My body stiffened immediately.
Before I could protest, I felt his hesitation beside me, too.
Interesting.
So I wasn’t the only uncomfortable one here.
The thought should have satisfied me.
Instead, it only confused me more.
His arm finally settled lightly around my waist, careful enough not to pull me too close.
But the contact still affected me instantly.
And judging from the slight tightening of his jaw, he felt it, too.
“Better!” my cousin said happily while snapping more pictures. “Now look at each other.”
Absolutely not.
I turned my face away immediately. “I think we’ve taken enough pictures.”
“Avalan,” my mother warned softly.
I swallowed my irritation and looked back reluctantly.
The moment my eyes met his, something uncomfortable passed between us again.
Tension and lloads of Memories of Unfinished Things.
And suddenly, I remembered exactly why I hated this.
Because no matter how angry I was, no matter how much I wanted revenge, one dangerous truth remained.
Part of me still reacted to him.
And I despised myself for it.
The pictures finally ended almost an hour later.
By then, my social battery was completely drained.
Our relatives were still talking loudly around the house while food trays moved from one corner to another. Everyone looked happy. Excited.
Like they were witnessing the beginning of something beautiful.
If only they knew.
I quietly slipped away from the sitting room and headed toward the back balcony for fresh air.
The evening breeze hit my face immediately, calming me just enough to breathe properly again. For the first time all day, things felt quiet.
It felt peaceful.
Or at least they did, until I heard footsteps behind me.
I didn’t need to turn around.
“You really enjoy following me around now, don’t you?”
The words came out colder than I intended.
He stopped a short distance behind me. “You keep walking away.”
I let out a soft laugh and folded my arms against the railing. “Maybe that should tell you something.”
Silence settled briefly between us.
Then, slowly, he stepped closer.
Not too close.
But it was close enough for me to feel his presence again.
“You meant what you said earlier,” he said quietly.
I turned to look at him. “Which part?”
“That you want to hurt me.”
The directness of the statement caught me slightly off guard.
Still, I refused to look away.
“You make it sound unreasonable.”
His gaze stayed on me steadily. “Isn’t it?”
A bitter smile touched my lips. “Why does that bother you so much? 'You weren't the one who hurt me,' right?”
Something shifted across his face again, that same frustrating mixture of guilt and restraint I still didn’t fully understand.
“You think hurting is going to fix what happened?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “But this is what you wanted.”
The words hung heavily between us.
The wind moved softly around us, but the tension remained sharp.
He looked away briefly before resting his hands against the balcony rail.
“You still don’t trust me.”
I almost laughed.
“Trust you?” I repeated quietly. “You really overestimate yourself.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” I replied firmly, stepping closer this time. “Here’s your answer, I don’t trust anything about you.”
His eyes lifted back to mine immediately.
“The way you talk. The way you disappeared for years and suddenly come back acting mysterious. The way you keep saying half truths like I’m supposed to believe you.” I shook my head slowly. “You’ve always been like this.”
His jaw clenched slightly.
“You think I’m lying.”
“Aren’t you?”
The question landed harder than I expected.
Because for the first time since this conversation started, he looked angry.
He wasn’t calm or wearing that confusion expression. He was actually angry.
“You really think that little of me?”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You lost the right to be offended years ago.”
The words hit exactly where I intended them to.
I saw it immediately in his face.
Good.
For years, I was the only one carrying pain from what happened between us.
Maybe it was finally his turn.
“You keep talking about that day like you know everything,” he said quietly, but there was tension underneath his voice now. “But you were the one who walked away before hearing the full story.”
A cold laugh escaped me. “Full story? You mean the part where I was stupid enough to love you?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then explain it properly for once!” I snapped suddenly, frustration exploding before I could stop it. “Stop talking in circles and say it!”
The silence that followed felt heavy.
Dangerously heavy.
His eyes stayed locked on mine for so long that my heartbeat started rising again.
Then quietly,
“If I tell you everything now,” he said carefully, “there’s a chance you’ll hate someone else more than you hate me.”
The words crashed into me instantly.
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But he didn’t answer immediately.
And somehow, that silence scared me more than the answer itself.
“Avalan,” he said quietly after a moment, “the person who betrayed you that day wasn’t the person you think.”
My chest tightened painfully.
Immediately, one face flashed across my mind.
The boy who always stayed beside me.
The one who comforted me after everything happened.
The one who claimed he cared.
No.
No, that didn’t even make sense.
I shook my head instantly. “Stop it.”
“It’s the truth.”
“You’re lying.”
But the words didn’t sound as strong this time.
Because suddenly…
I remembered things I hadn’t thought about in years.
Little things.
Strange things.
Conversations that never fully made sense.
The timing.
The way everything happened too perfectly.
“No,” I whispered again, more to myself this time.
He stepped closer carefully. “You trusted the wrong person.”
My chest tightened harder.
Because the terrifying part wasn’t what he was saying.
It was the small part of me beginning to wonder, what if he wasn’t lying?
- Writer
