Episode 18
1000 Words
The next morning felt colder than usual, though the sun was sharp and warm over the city .
Karla lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above her. She hadn’t slept much. Her body was home, but her mind was stuck in that dimly lit bedroom, where Christopher had murmured her name with drunken tenderness… where she had almost let her heart win over her reason .
But now, reality had returned with full force. Her phone remained silent. No message. No missed call. Not even a text asking if she got home safe .
She stared at their last chat. *“We shouldn’t.”* That was the final thing she’d typed before walking out .
And now, he had vanished again .
---
Two days passed .
Karla kept checking his stories. He had posted a picture with his PG friends at a café, laughing, drinks in hand, like nothing had happened. Another story — a book on neonatology open, tagged with “#PGgrind” and a coffee mug beside it. Professional. Calm. As if that night hadn’t occurred .
No mention of her. No message. Not even a “How are you ?”
And Karla ?
She was shattered .
She had carried him to bed, stayed with him, been vulnerable — and all she had in return was distance. Cold, gaping silence .
---
In the middle of the third day, she gave in .
She sent a message .
> “Hey. I just wanted to make sure you were okay… after the other night .”
He replied four hours later .
> “Yeah. Sorry about that night. I wasn’t in my senses. Hope I didn’t say or do anything inappropriate.”
That word—*inappropriate*—hit her like a slap .
She bit her lip, typing and deleting .
Eventually, she replied :
> “You didn’t. Don’t worry .”
And that was it. He didn’t continue the conversation. No follow-up. No warmth. Just a formal closure to an emotional storm .
---
Later that evening, she found herself venting to Jenna over a video call .
“I feel like I was just… a temporary escape for him,” Karla confessed, her voice cracking. “He always said I was different. But then he acts like I’m the same as all the others . ”
Jenna’s face was stern. “Karla, listen to me. You’ve done nothing wrong. You cared. You showed up when no one else did. But you can’t force someone to value that. ”
“I know,” she whispered .
“But you *also* need to stop punishing yourself for his silence. If he’s not responding, that’s *his* emotional immaturity. Not your failure.”
“I just… thought it meant something,” Karla said softly.
Jenna didn’t speak immediately. Then, gently: “Maybe it *did*, for a moment. But if he’s not willing to face it now, then maybe he never deserved it in the first place.”
---
That night, Karla found herself writing in her journal — something she hadn’t done in months .
*"He pulled me close, but now he’s miles away. I wish I could pretend it didn’t hurt. But it does. It hurts every time I open i********: and see him laughing with someone else. Every time I look at my chat window and it’s blank. "*
*"I wanted honesty. Instead, I got a half-drunk confession and a full-force silence. " *
She closed the journal, wiped her tears, and made a decision .
She wouldn’t reach out again .
Not until he did .
---
A week passed. Her internship resumed . The usual chaos of hospital rounds and paperwork consumed her hours. She smiled in front of patients, discussed diagnoses, and gave textbook-perfect answers. But inside, she felt… hollow .
Christopher was back on campus. She saw him once from afar — walking into the OB-GYN wing with a group of residents. He didn’t glance her way.
The only time their eyes met was across the hospital canteen. A fleeting second. He looked at her — and then looked away.
That night, she cried herself to sleep.
---
Meanwhile, Christopher stood under the shower in his apartment, his hands braced against the cold tile. Water poured over his face, but it couldn’t wash away the ache.
His friend’s words from the other night rang in his ears:
*"Bro, why are you stressing? You’ve got girls lining up. She’s just another one—don’t get dramatic."*
But she wasn’t just another one.
Karla had been there. At his worst. Carried him, held him, *chose* him when she didn’t have to.
And he?
He ghosted her. Again.
Not because he didn’t feel anything.
But because he felt *too much*.
Because her touch reminded him of everything he believed he didn’t deserve. The guilt of his past still clung to him like a second skin. He still remembered that night years ago, when he’d cheated on a girl who truly loved him. He had destroyed someone’s faith in love—and he always told himself he wasn't worthy of real affection after that.
Karla's kindness threatened that belief. Her presence tore down the walls he had built to keep himself from falling again.
And so, he retreated. Out of fear.
Out of cowardice.
He picked up his phone, opened her chat, stared at the blinking cursor.
And then closed it again.
---
Back in her hostel room, Karla got a notification.
*“Christopher Hales posted a new story.”*
She tapped it.
It was a boomerang. Him and another girl clinking coffee mugs at a café. A fellow PG student, smiling wide.
Karla stared for a long second.
Then she shut the app and turned off her phone.
She had to start letting go.
Because holding on was beginning to hurt more than walking away ever could.
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- Writer
