Find Your Own North

Chapter 10:The Unspoken Boundary.

The silence that followed Liam’s confession was heavier than any silence we had ever shared. It wasn't the warm, comfortable blanket of our usual cafe visits; it was a thin, vibrating wire, stretched to the point of snapping.

"Since we were seventeen?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "Liam, why... why are you telling me this now?"

He looked down at the cold bag of wings, his jaw tight. "Because I saw you leave with him tonight, and for the first time in ten years, I realized I might actually lose you. Not to distance, or to time, but to someone who doesn't even know your favorite color."

I stood frozen in my emerald silk dress, the fabric suddenly feeling like a costume that didn't fit. My heart was thundering against my ribs. I wanted to reach out; I wanted to tell him that I’d been feeling a shift too. But the fear—that cold, sharp terror of ruining the best thing in my life—held my tongue.

"I don't know what to say," I breathed. "Liam, you’re my best friend. You’re my person. If we... if we change things, and it goes wrong..."

"I know," he interrupted, his voice raspy. He looked up, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes made me want to cry. "I know the stakes, Maya. That’s why I’ve been silent for a decade."

He took a step back, putting space between us that felt like a physical wound. He picked up the bag of wings and held it out to me with a forced, painful smile.

"Forget I said it," he whispered.

"Liam, I can't just forget—"

"You have to," he said, his voice firmer now. "Because I’d rather be 'just your friend' for the rest of my life than not have you in it at all. Let’s just... let’s go back to how it was. Please."

I looked at him, knowing deep down that "back to how it was" was an impossible country. The words were out now. They were hanging in the air between us like ghosts. But I saw the desperation in his face, the fear of losing our foundation, and I nodded slowly.

"Okay," I whispered, taking the bag from him. My fingers brushed his, and we both flinched as if burned. "Just friends."

"Good," he said, though his eyes told a completely different story. "I'll... I'll see you tomorrow? To help you grade those history papers?"

"Tomorrow," I agreed.

He turned and walked down the stairs, his shoulders hunched against the wind. I stood at my door, the heavy bag of spicy wings in my hand and the scent of Julian’s expensive cologne still on my skin, feeling like I was caught between two worlds—and belonging to neither.