Midnight Shadows

~16~:Between Friends and Lovers (Third Person POV)

Tarian hadn’t spoken to Hecate in what felt like a lifetime. She was a name that belonged to an older version of him, someone wrapped in fragments of curiosity, vague attraction, and unresolved questions. The kind of girl who had once been part of the quiet spaces between his teenage years, the kind of girl whose presence felt temporary but lingered long after their paths diverged. They had drifted apart slowly and without ceremony. No arguments. No declarations. Just a simple shift in priorities. Two people whose lives simply grew in different directions, and eventually, the connections between them frayed like old threads. The message from her arrived unexpectedly. A short, casual text. No punctuation. No context. Just:

We need to talk.

He stared at it for a while, thumb hovering over the screen, unsure what to make of it. There wasn’t anger in her words. Nor urgency. But there was something about the timing that unsettled him. Things in his life had finally settled into something warm, something real, something he didn’t want shaken. Calista had become the steady in his chaos, the one person who could ground him when his mind raced too fast. And Mazikeen, well, Mazikeen had been the one who had held him together in the darkest of times. The one who had been there when he had nothing else to cling to. The one person who understood the depth of his struggles. And now, this ghost from his past, Hecate, was reaching out? He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to entertain the possibility that this could disrupt everything he had fought to build. But there was a strange weight to her words that wouldn’t let him ignore it. He replied, his fingers tapping out the words, cautious but polite.

Talk about what?

Her response came almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for him to answer, her words clipped but full of intent.

It’s about Mazikeen. I think Calista deserves to know.

The words sat heavy on his screen, as if they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. What did Hecate know about Mazikeen? As far as Tarian was aware, she hadn’t spoken to her in months—maybe even years. They weren’t close anymore. So why now? Why reach out to him? What could she possibly know that he didn’t? His mind raced with possibilities, all of them dark and unsettling. Secrets. Lies. Misunderstandings. Or maybe it was nothing more than some petty attempt to stir trouble, something Hecate had always enjoyed when their paths had crossed before. Still, he responded.

I don’t understand.

The reply came swiftly, her words cutting through the confusion, carrying a truth he wasn’t ready to face.

She has feelings for you, Tarian. She always has.

Tarian’s heart skipped a beat. He blinked, rereading the message over and over again. Once. Twice. Three times. Mazikeen? That couldn’t be right. Could it? He paused, thinking back over the past few weeks, trying to make sense of it. And then it hit him. Maybe it made sense more than he wanted to admit. Lately, something about Mazikeen had shifted, quietly, almost imperceptibly. It had been subtle at first. Just little things he couldn’t quite place. She’d grown distant, like she was closing herself off from him, but in a way that felt more deliberate than natural. There had been no grand argument, no sudden fallout. But there was a change. A shift. A feeling that everything wasn’t as it seemed. The vibrant, chaotic energy she always brought to their friendship had dulled. She no longer sent him those blurry snaps with her half-done hair and exaggerated filters, laughing at herself and teasing him about his shocking ability to cook. Their streak had disappeared without explanation. The little inside jokes that used to fill their chats, those spontaneous rants about her day, or her bizarre observations about her world had stopped. She used to send random thoughts that made no sense but always brought a smile to his face, like, “This lecturer is crazy” or “Tell me why the power went out during my practical session?” He could almost hear the frustration in her words when he read them. But now? All of it had faded, almost like someone had turned off a light. The more he thought about it, the more he realized the change had been gradual, like something slowly slipping through his fingers without his notice. It wasn’t something that happened overnight. No, it had been a slow retreat. A careful pullback. Mazikeen had stopped picking up his calls. Stopped inviting him into the chaos of her day. Even when he reached out, she had grown more distant, replying with a vague, “I’m good, just tired,” when he asked how she was doing. She never used to be like that. She used to share every small detail of her day with him, from the little things that made her laugh to the bigger frustrations that made her curse under her breath. But now? It was all silence. He hadn’t pressed. Maybe he should have. Maybe he was too focused on his own life, too distracted by the whirlwind of emotions and new experiences he was trying to navigate with Calista. But now, looking back, he wondered if he had missed something. He thought about the last time they had truly laughed together. It had been weeks ago, when Mazikeen had sent him a snap of her roommate snoring so loudly she joked, “Tell me why she sounds like a car with engine trouble.” Tarian had laughed so hard he nearly choked on his drink. That was the kind of raw, effortless joy Mazikeen had once brought into his life. But now, all he had were memories of something that felt like it was slipping away, piece by piece. Could it be because she was hurting? Could it be because she felt something she believed she shouldn’t? Could it be that the affection she had for him, a silent, unspoken affection, had been growing over time, only to find itself overshadowed by his relationship with Calista? He stood up from his bed, his movements restless, his thoughts like a torrent in his mind. The room felt smaller. The ceiling lower. His mind, loud. He remembered how Mazikeen had always been there for him, even when she wasn’t physically present. When Galadriel had left him, shattered and insecure, it had been Mazikeen who called him in the middle of the night, staying on the line even when he had no words left to say. She didn’t push him for answers. She didn’t try to fix him. She simply stayed silent, patient, offering him the space he needed but never leaving him alone in the dark. But love? He never considered it. Never looked at her that way. He texted back, his fingers fumbling with the words.

Where is this coming from?

Hecate’s reply came fast:

You think she was just being a good friend? No one stays up night after night for someone unless they’re hoping they’ll be noticed. She waited. And then Calista happened. She’s still waiting, Tarian. You just don’t see it.

Tarian sank back down onto his bed, the weight of her words pressing down on him. His mind replayed every moment with Mazikeen. The times she seemed on the verge of saying something but chose silence. The way she smiled whenever he spoke about Calista, but with a strange softness in her eyes, a look that seemed to say she was letting go of something she never truly held.

He didn’t want to read too much into it. He didn’t want to believe it. But he couldn’t ignore it either. The thought that Mazikeen might have been carrying these feelings for him, unspoken, hidden beneath the surface all this time, it didn’t sit well with him. It hurt to think about it. He loved Calista. That much was certain. She made him feel grounded. Real. Seen. She made him believe that his scars didn’t make him unworthy. They made him human. He opened Snapchat, his thumb scrolling through the old memories. The photos. The snippets of laughter. The snaps of Mazikeen pulling faces, laughing at his failed attempts to cook, teasing him for always getting his “you’re” and “your” confused. And in those images, those moments, they hit him like a punch. How present she had always been. How much of his life she had filled without ever demanding anything in return. The space she had occupied, quietly, without asking for recognition, without expecting anything but his friendship. His chest ached. Hecate messaged again:

You’re not a bad person, Tarian. You just didn’t see her. But now you do.

He stared at the message for a long time, unsure of what to do with the knowledge now sitting heavy in his chest. His heart felt heavier than it had moments before. He opened his journal. Began to write. Not just about Mazikeen, but about himself. About how, sometimes, we miss the most obvious truths when we’re looking in the wrong direction, focused on something else. How love can be quiet, and how easily we ignore it until it’s too late. He closed it. Thought about texting Mazikeen. Thought about what he would even say. Instead, he just sat there, his mind swirling with thoughts he wasn’t ready to face. He knew he needed to talk to her. Not out of guilt. Not out of fear. But out of respect. She deserved honesty. So did Calista. And Tarian? He was learning to face the quiet truths life whispered when he wasn’t paying attention. And maybe, just maybe, he was ready to listen.