Episode 23
1092 Words
The halls of the college hospital bustled with their usual rhythm—beeping monitors, rustling pages, the soft murmur of interns exchanging notes—but for Karla, it all moved in a blurry, muted rush. Her body walked, her hands held her clipboard, but her heart wasn’t present. It remained frozen in a place that now only brought her pain.
Christopher hadn’t acknowledged her presence since she returned for this final stretch of internship. No eye contact, no subtle nods, not even a passing glance. He laughed and joked with others, helped juniors with complicated charts, smiled warmly at fellow interns—*everyone* except her.
At first, Karla thought she was imagining it. That maybe he was too busy. Or preoccupied.
But today, it was clear.
They were in the same room. The OBGY training bay. Karla was scribbling something into a file when he entered, surrounded by two interns. His voice was confident, his demeanor composed. He discussed a case with them, even offered to show one of them the proper technique to handle a postpartum complication.
Karla stood, almost involuntarily, hoping maybe now, finally, he would look at her. Say *something*. Anything.
But his eyes passed over her like she was invisible. He turned to walk past her, clipboard in hand.
“Christopher…” she said softly, voice nearly caught in her throat.
He paused.
For a brief second, her heart leapt.
But then he said, without looking at her, “Move, Karla. You're blocking the cabinet.”
That was it. No warmth, no flicker of acknowledgment. Nothing. He didn’t even wait for her to respond. Just walked past her like she was part of the furniture.
She stood there, frozen, chest constricting. Her lips parted but no words came out. The sting in her eyes intensified, and she quickly turned away before anyone could notice.
---
Later that evening, Karla sat on the edge of her bed in her apartment, trembling fingers wrapped around her phone.
*He didn’t even look at me. Not once. Like I never existed.*
Everything from that night played on a loop—his mouth on her skin, the whispered promises, the way he held her as if she was the only person who mattered in the world.
How could he now pretend like it had never happened?
A knock broke her spiral.
Karla opened the door to find Jenna, holding a bag of chips and a worried expression.
“I brought trash food,” Jenna said gently. “And I’m staying the night.”
Karla burst into tears the moment the door shut.
Jenna didn’t ask. She just pulled Karla into a hug and let her cry. It took several long minutes before Karla could speak, her words tumbling out like a dam breaking.
“He ignored me,” she choked. “In college. In the OBGY area. I tried to talk to him, and he asked me to *move*. Like I was in his way. Like I was *nothing*, Jenna.”
Jenna’s arms tightened around her. “Karla…”
“I knew he would pull away,” Karla continued. “I knew it. But this—this is like I never existed in his life. Like I was disposable. And it hurts. God, it *hurts so much*.”
Jenna wiped her tears gently. “You’re not disposable. He’s just… scared. And guilty. And maybe stupid. But *you* are not the problem.”
Karla sat down, curling up, her eyes swollen. “Maybe I pushed him too much. Maybe I should’ve just… left after that night.”
“No.” Jenna sat beside her. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. He made the choice to be with you. And now he’s making the choice to ignore you. That’s on *him*, Karla. Not you.”
Karla let the silence sit, heavy and raw between them.
Then Jenna reached for her bag and pulled out a small notebook.
“Okay. No more crying for today. We’re shifting gears.”
Karla blinked at her.
“You were supposed to send your author application, remember?” Jenna said gently. “To Milan? That opportunity you worked so hard for?”
Karla sniffled. “I forgot…”
“Well, you didn’t *really* forget. You just got distracted by this tornado of a man,” Jenna smirked. “Now. Focus on what you can control. You’re talented, Karla. This—writing—is your world. Let’s put your energy there.”
Karla took a deep breath. Jenna was right. The internship was ending soon, and this opportunity in Milan—joining an international author team—was her dream before any of this chaos began. And it still was.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I’ll finish the email tonight.”
“Atta girl.”
---
That night, Karla sat at her desk, wiping the last of her tears away. She opened her laptop, her fingers hovering above the keyboard. The document was mostly ready—the portfolio, her recent works, the personal essay.
All that remained was to hit send.
She closed her eyes for a moment, exhaled deeply, and pressed the button.
Sent.
Just like that.
It felt like a beginning. One that she controlled. One that didn’t depend on stolen glances or ignored words.
---
Meanwhile, across campus, Christopher sat in his room, surrounded by open books and unfinished notes. His phone lay face down beside him, notifications long ignored.
He’d seen Karla today. And yes, he had ignored her.
Not because he didn’t care.
But because he cared *too much*.
Every glance at her brought guilt crashing down. Every memory of that night made him feel like he’d lost whatever moral ground he once had. And worse—his actions had already brought consequences. His uncle had been clear: if another whisper came, his postgraduate future could be jeopardized.
So, Christopher told himself that this was for the best.
Keeping distance was safer—for him, for her.
Still, his chest tightened when he remembered her voice today.
*Christopher…*
He’d wanted to stop. To turn. To say something.
But he couldn’t.
Instead, he drank his silence like poison.
---
Back in her room, Karla finally curled under her blanket, exhausted. But this time, instead of tears, there was resolve.
She didn’t know what Christopher’s silence meant in the long run.
But she couldn’t pause her life waiting for him to remember what they had.
There was more to her than this heartbreak.
And starting tonight, she would chase that.
---
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- Writer
