Episode 22
952 Words
The ceiling of Karla’s room had never felt so loud.
It had been two days since that night—since her body and heart gave in to the man who’d been both her comfort and her confusion. She hadn’t heard from him since she walked out of his apartment. No texts. No calls. Not even a reaction to her stories. Silence, once again, wrapped itself around her like a familiar, unwanted friend.
She lay in bed, staring at the slowly spinning fan above her, her fingers still clutching the phone that hadn’t buzzed. Every few minutes, she unlocked it, re-read their last messages, scrolled through his old stories—some saved, others long gone. The quiet was louder than ever.
Her chest ached, not with regret, but with something worse—longing.
*Why does he always pull away after getting close?* she wondered. *Was it guilt? Or worse… was she just another mistake to him?*
She should hate him for this, for constantly dangling hope and then retreating like a coward. But she couldn’t. She was too far gone.
In the mirror across the room, her reflection looked tired. Bruised not in body, but in spirit. She hadn’t told Jenna what happened. Not fully. Only that she and Christopher had talked… connected… again. The details were hers to hold for now.
The room suddenly felt suffocating. She needed air.
---
Meanwhile, across the city, Christopher sat in a dimly lit bar with Armaan, two empty whiskey glasses between them and a third being poured.
Christopher’s hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, voice lower than usual. “I crossed the line, man.”
Armaan raised an eyebrow, sipping slowly. “The line? Don’t tell me…”
Christopher nodded, a bitter chuckle escaping. “We slept together.”
Armaan let the glass rest. “You serious?”
Christopher nodded again, eyes cast down at the condensation dripping down his tumbler.
“Jesus, Chris…” Armaan leaned back. “You’ve f****d up big this time.”
“I know,” Christopher muttered.
“Like—big. Karla? The intern? You swore you’d never do this again.”
Christopher dragged a hand down his face. “I tried, Armaan. You don’t know how hard I tried. I pushed her away. I told myself it was wrong. That it wasn’t worth the risk. But she’s not just another student, man. She’s… different.”
Armaan stared, not with judgment but with something worse—disappointment. “Then why didn’t you stop it?”
“Because I’ve fallen for her.”
The words dropped between them like thunder.
Armaan blinked. “You what?”
“I’ve fallen for her,” Christopher repeated, this time quieter, more broken. “But I can’t… I *can’t* do this. The staff already gave me a warning. Her name is being whispered in every corridor. People are watching. Her future, my career—both at stake.”
Armaan sighed deeply, shaking his head. “So you’d rather pretend it didn’t happen?”
Christopher didn't answer. He just stared into his glass, watching the ice melt.
“You’ve already crossed the line you feared,” Armaan said flatly. “There’s no going back now. What you need to do is stay away. For *her* sake. And yours.”
Christopher looked up. “She’ll hate me.”
“She’ll move on,” Armaan replied, but even he wasn’t sure of it. “Look, man. You slept with her. That’s a level you can’t undo. But if you truly care about her like you say… you’ll let her go before this ruins her.”
“But I don’t want to let her go.”
“Then *don’t do things that make her feel disposable*, Chris!” Armaan’s voice rose slightly, but he controlled it. “You can’t keep walking in and out of her life. If you’re going to walk away, make it clean. If you’re going to stay—then fight like hell. But stop leaving her in limbo.”
Christopher looked away, jaw clenched.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he whispered. “But I think I already did.”
---
Karla stood alone on the college terrace later that evening, the city lights blinking below her like fading stars. She hugged her arms around herself, memories from that night flashing like a cruel slideshow—the way he had kissed her, the way he whispered her name, the way he had held her after, for just a moment, like he was scared to let go.
But he *had* let go.
Now she was the one holding on to threads that were disappearing.
She remembered how he once said: *“I don’t want to ruin you.”*
And yet, this silence was slowly tearing her apart.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Jenna: *“Come downstairs, movie night at my place. Bring snacks.”*
Karla hesitated. Then typed: *“Maybe later. Not feeling it.”*
She didn’t send it. She deleted it and put her phone on silent.
Part of her wanted to message Christopher. To ask him *why*. To scream. To beg. To kiss him again.
But she couldn’t. Not this time.
If he wanted to be in her life, he’d have to choose it now.
---
Back in the bar, Armaan stood to leave, clapping Christopher on the shoulder. “I’ve said what I had to say. Now it’s on you. Just… don’t string her along. If you’re not ready, let her go properly.”
Christopher nodded silently, staring down at his phone.
There was no message from Karla.
He almost missed her even more because of it.
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- Writer
