Unscripted Hearts

Chapter 17: Fractured Mirrors

The rain has a way of making everything feel a little heavier, like it’s not just the sky crying but the city itself, weary of the weight of too many broken dreams. I’m standing under the awning of Sophie’s café, staring out at the blurred world of wet streets and distant lights, and I can’t help but feel like I’m on the edge of something—something that could change everything. But whether it’s a good change or a bad one… I don’t know.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s Ethan. Can we talk?

I stare at the message for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure what to reply. There was a time, not too long ago, when a message from Ethan would’ve made my heart race with anticipation. But now… Now, it feels like one more thing I have to figure out. One more promise, one more expectation, one more weight pressing down.

I don’t know what’s happening between us. I don’t know if I can trust it anymore.

I’m here. I send back, even though I have no idea what I’m supposed to say when he shows up. I don’t even know what I want from him anymore.

When he walks through the door a little while later, his soaked hair sticking to his forehead and his jacket dripping with rain, it’s almost like seeing a ghost. This version of him, the one who’s always a little late, always a little distant, feels like a stranger now. I’ve been waiting for him to change, to prove that he’s more than the half-promises and hesitations, but with every day, he feels a little more out of reach.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says, his voice low as he looks at me. “I should’ve been here earlier. But… I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”

I swallow hard. “That’s good. I’ve been thinking a lot too.”

He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat from his body, the tension in the air between us. I want to say something, to tell him how I’m feeling, but the words feel stuck in my throat. Instead, I let him speak.

“I don’t want to keep doing this,” he continues. “The waiting. The not knowing if I’m enough for you. If I’m enough for us.”

I meet his eyes, trying to make sense of everything. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean… I’m tired of holding back,” he says. “I’ve been scared. Scared of letting you in, scared of letting myself be vulnerable. But if I’m being honest with you… I’m ready. Ready to be with you, for real.”

For a second, it feels like a weight is lifted off my chest, like maybe this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. But then the doubt creeps in, wrapping itself around my ribs. Can I trust him? Can I really believe that he’s ready?

“I don’t know,” I say, my voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can believe that.”

His expression falters, and I see the hurt flash in his eyes. “Lila, I’m trying. I really am. I know I’ve messed up, but I’m not the same person I was when we first met.”

“You’ve changed,” I say softly, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “But I haven’t. I’m still stuck in the same place.”

“You’re not stuck,” he insists, reaching for my hand. His fingers are warm against my skin, but there’s a hesitation in his touch, like he’s not sure if I’ll pull away. And for a moment, I consider doing just that. Pulling away, running, escaping from the uncertainty, the pain.

But then I look at him—really look at him—and I see the vulnerability in his eyes. I see how much he’s trying, how much he wants this to work. And something inside me shifts.

“I don’t want to give up on us,” I admit, my voice quiet. “But I also don’t want to keep pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.”

There’s a long silence between us, a silence that feels like the calm before a storm. I can almost hear the rain falling harder outside, like it’s echoing the weight of everything unsaid.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.

Ethan pulls me into a hug, his arms tight around me. It’s a comfort I didn’t realize I needed until now. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, his voice muffled against my hair. “Together.”

But as much as I want to believe him, there’s a part of me that wonders if it’s already too late. What happens when two people want different things, when they’re not ready for the same kind of love?

---

Sophie’s café is quieter than usual that evening. It’s late, and most of the regulars have already left, leaving just a few stray patrons lingering over their coffee. The air smells like espresso and fresh-baked croissants, a comfort amidst the chaos in my mind.

I’m sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of tea, when Sophie comes over. She doesn’t need to say anything—her raised eyebrows tell me she’s been watching us, reading the tension between Ethan and me. I don’t know why I thought I could hide it.

“How’d it go?” she asks, her voice low, the concern in her eyes more than I can ignore.

“Same as usual,” I reply, shrugging. “A little progress, a lot of uncertainty.”

She nods, leaning against the counter. “Sounds like a pattern.”

“It is,” I admit. “I don’t know if I’m the one who’s not ready, or if it’s him. Or maybe it’s both of us.”

Sophie’s gaze softens, her hand brushing over mine. “Lila, you’re not in this alone, you know that, right?”

“I know,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “But sometimes it feels like I’m drowning in it. Like no matter what I do, nothing ever changes.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me, as if trying to figure out what to say next. Finally, she leans in closer, her voice gentle but firm.

“Do what’s best for you, Lila. No one can decide that for you. Not Ethan. Not me. Just you.”

I nod slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. She’s right. I’ve been letting everything else cloud my judgment—my fear of being alone, my desire for love, for security—but I haven’t stopped to think about what I really need. What I want.

And in that moment, I realize something. I’ve been waiting for Ethan to change, to meet me halfway, but maybe it’s not about waiting for him anymore. Maybe it’s about deciding what I want, regardless of whether he’s ready to give it to me.

I don’t have all the answers yet. But for the first time, I feel like I’m starting to find the right questions.

---

The rain’s stopped by the time I leave the café. The streets are slick and quiet, reflecting the faint glow of the streetlights. I breathe in the cool night air, feeling the weight on my shoulders ease just a little.

My phone buzzes again. It’s Ethan. Can we talk tomorrow?

I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the screen. For a moment, I wonder if I’m ready to take that next step with him. But then I remember Sophie’s words.

Do what’s best for you.

I don’t reply immediately. Instead, I slip the phone back into my pocket and keep walking, letting the night air clear my mind.

Whatever happens tomorrow, I’m ready to face it. Ready to stop waiting for someone else to make the decision for me.