Chapter 14 Felt
2112 Words
It was the middle of the second semester when everything finally came to a point.
We were sitting in one of the quieter areas on campus, a space tucked behind the main building where fewer students passed through.
It had become one of our usual spots… simple, quiet, away from unnecessary attention.
I was reviewing notes, and Wallace was watching me. I noticed it after a while.
“You’re distracting,” I said without looking up.
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
I glanced at him then, narrowing my eyes slightly. “You’re not even pretending to deny it.”
“No point.”
I shook my head lightly, returning my attention to my notes… though not as focused as before.
There was a pause. Longer than usual. And then, his expression turned more serious.
“Nyra.”
Something in his tone made me look up again. He wasn’t relaxed this time. He wasn’t teasing.
He was… deadly serious.
“I need to ask you something,” he said.
I felt it immediately… that subtle shift in the air, the kind that made everything feels more intentional.
“Okay,” I replied slowly.
He held my gaze, steady, unwavering. And for the first time since I met him, I saw uncertainty. Not weakness. Just… something real.
“I know I don’t have the best start with you,” he began. “And I know I don’t get to erase that.”
I didn’t interrupt.
“But everything after that,” he continued, quieter now, “that’s real. At least for me.”
My chest tightened slightly.
“I don’t want this to stay… undefined,” he added. “I don’t want to keep guessing where I stand with you.”
A brief pause. Then…
“Be with me.”
The words were simple and direct. But they carried weight.
“Be my girlfriend, Nyra.”
Silence followed. Not awkward or forced. Just… heavy. I stared at him, my thoughts suddenly louder than everything around me.
Because this… this was real. And once I answered, nothing would stay the same.
After that day, Wallace didn’t rush me. He didn’t repeat the question the next morning or pressure me into giving him an answer I wasn’t ready to give.
Instead, he did something far more difficult, and far more effective. He showed me. Consistently. Patiently. Without making it feel like a performance.
At first, it was subtle.
He started walking me to my classes more regularly, but never in a way that made it look like he was claiming me.
If I told him I needed space to study, he respected it… no complaints, no guilt-tripping. But somehow, he would still find quiet ways to make things easier for me.
Like the time I stayed late at the library preparing for a major exam. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t think I had to.
But when I finally stepped outside, exhausted and mentally drained, he was there, leaning against his car, holding two cups of coffee.
“I figured you’d be here,” he said simply.
“You’ve been waiting?” I asked, frowning.
“Not long.”
It was a lie. I could tell.
But he didn’t make it sound like a sacrifice. He just handed me the coffee like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Another time, when I mentioned, just casually, that I was struggling with a particular subject, he didn’t try to solve it for me. He didn’t offer to “fix” things the way someone with his influence easily could.
Instead, the next day, he handed me a neatly organized set of notes.
Not his. They were compiled. Summarized and simplified.
“You made this?” I asked, flipping through the pages.
“I asked around,” he admitted. “Then fixed what didn’t make sense.”
It wasn’t perfect. But it was thoughtful. And it helped.
What surprised me more was how he treated the things that mattered to me.
When the outreach program continued its activities beyond the gala, he showed up, not as a chairman, not as someone important, but as someone willing to help.
He sat with the kids, awkward at first, clearly out of his comfort zone, but he didn’t leave. He stayed. He learned and he adjusted.
I watched him struggle to explain something as simple as basic arithmetic to a child who kept getting distracted… and instead of getting frustrated, he laughed quietly and tried again.
That… stayed with me. Because it wasn’t something he had to do. It was something he chose to do.
There were also moments that felt almost unreal.
Like when I casually mentioned I hadn’t been back to the city market in a while because I didn’t have time.
The next weekend, he showed up early in the morning and dragged me out of the dorm before I could even fully wake up.
“Where are we going?” I asked, half-annoyed.
“You’ll see.”
He took me back there.
Not in a grand, extravagant way, but in a quiet, simple morning where we walked through stalls, bought food, and sat on a bench like normal people. No attention. No audience.
Just… normal.
“You like this better, don’t you?” he said at one point.
I looked at him, slightly surprised. “How do you know that?”
He shrugged lightly. “You’re more relaxed here.”
He noticed things like that. Small things. Important things.
And slowly, without me realizing it, my guard started to lower. His friends, surprisingly, made things easier too.
At first, they were distant… careful, unsure how to approach me after everything that happened. But over time, that changed.
They started including me in conversations, inviting me to sit with them, treating me not as someone Wallace brought along, but as someone who belonged there.
It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t fake. And that mattered.
Two months passed like that. Two months of consistency. Of effort and patience. And somewhere in between, I stopped questioning his intentions.
Stopped looking for something hidden behind his actions. Because there wasn’t anything there except… him. Trying. For me.
It was near the end of the second semester when he asked again. This time, it wasn’t in a quiet corner. It wasn’t planned.
We were walking across campus after a long day, the sun already setting, casting everything in a warm, fading light.
“Nyra.”
I looked at him.
“Have you thought about it?” he asked.
I didn’t need to ask what he meant.
I had. More than I wanted to admit. I stopped walking. So did he.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at him… and it wasn’t dramatic or cinematic like people always describe it. My mind wasn’t suddenly clear. If anything, it was louder.
Because this was real.
And real things… don’t come with guarantees.
He didn’t rush me. He didn’t say anything to fill the silence. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, watching me like he was ready to take whatever answer I gave, whether he liked it or not.
That alone made my chest tighten a little.
“For two months,” I said, my voice quieter than I expected, “you’ve been doing all this.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Doing what?”
“You know what,” I said, giving him a look. “Showing up. Staying. Being… different.”
A faint smile touched his lips, but he didn’t interrupt.
“You didn’t just say sorry and move on,” I continued. “You actually… changed things.”
I paused, trying to find the right words without making it sound bigger than I was ready to admit.
“I noticed,” I added.
That seemed to hit him more than anything else I’d said.
“I’m not easy to deal with,” I went on, letting out a small breath. “I overthink. I don’t trust quickly. And I don’t like depending on people.”
“I know,” he said.
“And you still stayed,” I said, meeting his eyes again. “You didn’t get tired of it. Or annoyed. Or bored.”
“Not even close,” he replied, almost immediately.
I let out a short, nervous laugh, shaking my head slightly. “See, that’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“You make it hard to say no.”
That made him smile properly this time… not arrogant, not teasing. Just… relieved.
I looked down for a second, then back at him.
“I didn’t say yes right away because I didn’t want to be stupid,” I admitted. “I’ve seen how things like this go. People say things. They act nice for a while. Then it fades.”
His expression didn’t change, but his focus sharpened.
“I didn’t want to be just another phase for you,” I added.
“You’re not,” he said, firm enough that it cut through my thoughts.
I held his gaze, searching for even a hint of hesitation. There wasn’t any.
“And I didn’t want to be someone who just… needed you,” I continued more quietly. “I wanted to be sure that if I stayed, it’s because I chose to. Not because I had no other option.”
“Then choose,” he said.
Simple. Direct. Like he wasn’t afraid of the answer. That did something to me.
I exhaled slowly, feeling the tension I’d been holding onto for weeks finally loosen just a little.
“You didn’t give me a reason to walk away,” I said.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched me.
“And I tried to find one,” I added, a small, almost embarrassed smile slipping through. “I really did.”
That earned a quiet huff of amusement from him. “I figured.”
I shook my head lightly. “But I couldn’t.”
A pause. Then I met his eyes again, fully this time.
“So… I don’t want to walk away.”
The words felt simple. But they landed heavy.
For a second, nothing happened. Then I saw it… the shift in his expression. Not controlled. Not calculated.
Relief. Actual relief.
“You’re saying yes?” he asked, just to be sure.
I rolled my eyes a little. “Don’t make me repeat it.”
A small laugh escaped him… quiet, but genuine.
“Say it properly,” he said.
I stared at him. “You’re really pushing your luck right now.”
“Just making sure,” he replied.
I shook my head, but I could feel it, the way my chest felt lighter, warmer, like something had finally settled into place.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”
There. No taking it back now. For a second, he just looked at me. Then he stepped closer. Not rushed. Not overwhelming.
Just… sure.
When he pulled me into a hug, it caught me off guard… not because I didn’t expect it, but because of how it felt.
It was warm, steady and real. Not tight enough to trap me, not loose enough to feel distant. Just enough that I could feel him there.
And for once, I didn’t overthink it. I didn’t pull away. I just stayed.
“You took your time,” he murmured lightly.
I let out a soft breath against his shoulder. “You’re lucky I said yes at all.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m not messing this up.”
I pulled back slightly, looking at him. “You better not.”
“I won’t.”
There was no hesitation in that answer. And strangely enough, I believed him.
After that, things didn’t suddenly turn into some perfect, unrealistic version of a relationship.
We still had classes. Deadlines. Responsibilities. But something shifted. Things became… easier.
We didn’t have to overthink every interaction anymore. We didn’t have to question where we stood.
He still showed up. Still paid attention. Still made space for me in his life without trying to take over mine.
And I… I let myself meet him halfway.
We argued sometimes… small things, mostly. Different opinions, different habits. But it never felt like a power struggle. It felt… normal.
Comfortable.
There were quiet moments too, walking across campus without saying much, sitting beside each other while studying, sharing food without asking.
For the first time, I wasn’t just surviving something. I was actually… living it.
And somehow… that felt even more unfamiliar than everything I’d been through before.
- Writer
