Episode 13
1003 Words
The morning after Karla reached home felt strangely hollow .
She had imagined returning home after finals to be comforting—curling into her bed, eating home-cooked food, hearing her mother hum old Hollywood songs in the kitchen. And all of it *was* there. But Karla’s mind felt somewhere else entirely. Suspended .
Her suitcase sat half-unpacked by the wardrobe as she scrolled through her gallery—again—stopping at the picture of the fair’s Ferris wheel . It wasn’t even a photo of them together, but her fingers hovered over it longer than they should have .
That day had felt like a movie. Like a glitch in their tangled timeline where things were soft, and possible, and *theirs*. But since then ?
Nothing .
No message.
No like.
No subtle reply to her stories.
It had been three days .
Karla posted a mirror selfie with her dog—who looked absolutely thrilled to see her again. No reaction .
She posted a carousel of food, her mom’s biryani in front and center. Still nothing .
She even posted a scenic sky with a nostalgic caption :
> “Peace feels like something I’m learning to pretend.”
Still. No. Response .
And it wasn’t like she expected grand gestures. But it was the absence that weighed more heavily than anything else. After that day at the fair, something in her had quietly hoped that maybe Christopher would finally show he *wanted* her in his life .
But silence had arrived like an uninvited guest—and it was loud .
---
“ Honey , wake up. We’re going shopping. Get dressed!” her mom called out, voice trailing from the hallway .
Karla turned over, groaning, hugging her pillow. Her mom peeked into the room .
“You’re wasting your break in bed. What happened, you look dull ?”
Karla forced a smile. “Just tired, Mama .”
Her mother frowned, walking closer and brushing a hand over her forehead like she used to when Karla was younger. “ No fever. But you’re hiding something. Boy problem ?”
Karla’s eyes widened. “ What ? No! I mean—it’s nothing like that, seriously .”
Her mom gave her a look. “I raised you. I know when something’s hurting you .”
Karla’s eyes softened, but she only nodded. “I’ll be okay .”
---
Later that afternoon, seated between her parents at a busy restaurant, her phone buzzed with a family group notification .
> **Dad : **
> Surprise! We’re going on a family trip next week—Italy and France! Tickets booked !
Karla blinked, rereading the message. Her heart stirred for the first time in days .
She turned to her mom. “Wait, this is real ?”
Her mom smiled. “We wanted to celebrate your finals. And you haven’t traveled with us in years. Your dad’s even taking leave !”
For a moment, Karla felt a rush of gratitude. Escape. Distance. *Change*.
“I’ve never been to Paris ,” she said softly.
Her dad grinned. “You’ll love it .”
---
That night, back in her room, Karla lay in bed with only her night lamp casting a golden pool of light over the floor .
She unlocked her phone. Still nothing from Christopher.
Out of instinct—possibly self-sabotage—she opened his profile .
He had posted a story just an hour ago.
A blurry video from some rooftop gathering. Laughter in the background .
He looked the same. Effortless. Untouched. Moving on .
He didn’t even check her stories anymore.
Karla closed her eyes, clutching her phone to her chest.
Why did it feel like something bad was going to happen?
Her intuition—it had always whispered before things fell apart. Before exams. Before her grandfather passed. And now, it hummed again, low and steady: **Something is shifting. Be ready .**
But ready for *what*?
---
The next few days passed in a blur. Suitcases lined up. Travel plans finalized. Karla buried herself in planning outfits and researching bookstores in Paris.
Still—every free moment her mind drifted. To *him*.
She remembered their Q&A game, his flirty, teasing voice.
> *“Guess my body count?”*
> Her blush. His laugh.
> The lingering memory of his thumb brushing hers when he handed her cotton candy.
She remembered his regret, that quiet confession:
> *“I already broke someone who loved me. Maybe this is her curse.”*
Back then, she thought she could handle it. That maybe, if she was different enough, careful enough, patient enough—he’d stay.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
---
One evening before their flight, Karla sat on her balcony, a mug of hot cocoa warming her palms. The sky was pink, like something soft unraveling.
Jenna’s voice chimed in from a voice note she’d just listened to.
> “Girl, I know you won’t say it but this is eating you. Maybe he got scared. Maybe he’s messed up. But *you* deserve someone who doesn’t disappear right after holding your hand. If he really wanted you, Karla… he’d make sure you knew.”
Karla swallowed hard. She knew Jenna was right. But it still hurt.
She opened her DMs. Christopher’s chat still sat there, untouched.
She typed:
> *Hope your lectures are going well.*
Then deleted it.
She typed again:
> *Leaving for a trip tomorrow. Thought I’d let you know.*
Then erased it again.
Instead, she posted a soft photo of her passport and suitcase, captioned:
> “Chapter change. Let’s see what the world holds.”
---
Somewhere far away, in the silence of his flat, Christopher did see the post.
He didn’t react. He didn’t reply.
But he sat back, thumb hovering over her profile picture for a long, long time—before he turned his phone face-down.
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- Writer
