Still Tangled In You.

Chapter Six: I Can’t Keep Balancing Both Sides

I started noticing something I didn’t like.

I was checking my phone too often.

Not for everyone.

For them.

Two names. Two different feelings. Two different versions of me waiting to respond.

And the worst part?

I never knew which one would mess with my head more.

His friend was becoming… constant.

Not in a loud way. Not in a demanding way.

In a quiet way that slowly became part of my life.

He didn’t just check on me anymore.

He stayed.

Even when the conversation had no direction, he still found a way to keep it going.

Even when I said I was “fine,” he didn’t just accept it and leave it there.

He would always add something like:

“You don’t sound fine.”

And I hated how accurate he was.

Because I wasn’t fine.

But I was used to pretending I was.

One evening, we were talking again. Normal conversation at first. Small things. Random jokes.

Then suddenly, he went quiet for a while.

And that was unusual.

So I asked:

“Everything okay?”

He didn’t reply immediately.

Then he said something that made my chest tighten a little.

“Can I ask you something?”

I hesitated before replying.

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

Then:

“Do I matter to you?”

I just stared at the message.

Because that question wasn’t casual.

It wasn’t friendly.

It was emotional.

I didn’t know what answer he wanted.

Or what answer I could even give.

“Of course you do,” I typed slowly.

But even as I sent it, I knew it wasn’t enough.

Because he wasn’t asking like a friend.

And I could feel it.

He didn’t reply immediately after that.

And the silence felt different this time.

Heavier.

Meanwhile, my ex was still there too.

Still inconsistent.

Still showing up at random times like he hadn’t been confusing me for weeks.

One day he would act distant.

The next day he would say things like nothing had changed.

And I was starting to feel something dangerous:

I was getting used to it.

Used to the confusion.

Used to the emotional back-and-forth.

Used to waiting.

That scared me more than anything else.

Because I didn’t want this to become normal.

One night, my ex called again.

I almost didn’t pick up.

But I did.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” he said.

That line.

Every time.

It always made something inside me react.

But this time, I didn’t respond the same way.

Instead, I stayed quiet for a moment.

“You still have a girlfriend,” I reminded him softly.

“I know,” he said.

But again… no change in tone.

No guilt that felt final.

Just emotional imbalance.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I said honestly.

There was a pause.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” he said again.

And I closed my eyes.

Because that sentence was becoming a pattern.

Not love.

A pattern.

Something that keeps you emotionally attached without commitment.

After the call ended, I didn’t feel better.

I just felt tired.

And confused.

And stuck.

And then his friend messaged.

“You didn’t sound okay earlier.”

I didn’t even realize he noticed again.

“I’m fine,” I replied automatically.

But he didn’t let it go.

“You keep saying that.”

And I stopped for a second.

Because he was right.

I did keep saying that.

Even when I wasn’t.

Even when I was clearly not.

“I just have a lot on my mind,” I finally admitted.

And then he said something that stayed with me longer than I expected.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

I didn’t reply immediately.

Because that kind of statement… it feels different when someone actually means it.

Not as a line.

But as presence.

And that was the problem.

He wasn’t just becoming someone I talked to.

He was becoming someone I leaned on.

And I didn’t realize how much I was leaning until I compared it without meaning to.

My ex made me feel confused.

His friend made me feel calm.

My ex made me overthink everything.

His friend made me feel understood.

And slowly… without even planning it…

My heart started reacting differently to both.

That night, I lay down and stared at my ceiling for a long time.

Thinking.

Overthinking.

Replaying conversations in my head.

And I realized something I didn’t want to accept yet:

I wasn’t just emotionally stuck anymore.

I was emotionally divided.

One part of me still belonged to the past I couldn’t fully detach from.

And another part of me was slowly attaching itself to something new… something I didn’t fully understand yet.

And the scariest part?

Both of them still had access to me.

Both of them still reached me.

Both of them still pulled me in different directions.

And I was still here.

Still tangled.

Still trying to pretend I could handle both sides without breaking.

But deep down…

I could already feel it starting to c***k.