Chapter 9 — The Call She Ended Too Fast
805 Words
The Call She Ended Too Fast
The evening settled into the apartment like a soft gray haze. Lily curled up on the couch with her laptop open, trying to distract herself with assignments, but her mind kept drifting back to Arden’s tight voice, the way he had walked out without looking back.
She replayed it too many times.
A vibration broke her thoughts.
Louis.
Louis:
Did you eat the dinner I brought?
I was worried… you seemed stressed.
She sighed and answered the call.
“Yeah, I ate,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
“You sure you’re okay?” Louis asked. “You sound… different.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, though her voice wavered.
He chuckled. “You don’t sound fine. Do I need to come over?”
“No, Louis—don’t—”
The door lock clicked.
Lily’s heart stuttered.
The door opened slowly… and Arden walked in.
His shoulders were tense, hair slightly windblown, eyes shadowed and tired. But the moment he lifted his head and saw her on the phone—
Everything inside him sharpened.
Lily froze.
Louis kept talking, unaware of the sudden tension choking the room.
“Lily? You there?”
Arden didn’t say a word.
He just… looked at her.
A deep, unreadable stare that held jealousy, exhaustion, pain, and something else—something he didn’t want to name.
Lily swallowed.
“Louis, I’ll call you back,” she said quietly.
“Wait—why? Did something—”
She ended the call before he could finish.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Arden stood by the door, his hand still loosely around the knob, eyes fixed on her like he was trying to read every reason behind her decision.
“You cut the call,” he said softly.
It wasn’t a question.
It was… disbelief.
Lily closed her laptop. “Yes. I did.”
His jaw flexed.
“Why?”
“Because you walked in.”
Arden blinked—an almost imperceptible softening—like he wanted to hide how much those words affected him.
He stepped further inside, slow and cautious, as if approaching something fragile.
“You didn’t have to end it because of me,” he murmured.
“Would you have preferred I kept talking to him?” she asked.
His silence answered her.
He didn't move closer, but she could feel the tension in every step he took. He removed his coat, hung it over the back of a chair, then turned to her again, arms crossed tightly.
“You shouldn’t change your behavior because of my… issues,” he muttered.
“It’s not because of your issues.”
He met her eyes.
“Then why?”
Lily took a breath—slow, steady, honest.
“Because I didn’t want to talk to him while you were standing there. Because I knew it would bother you.”
A small, involuntary breath left him—like her words hit too close.
“Lily…” His voice dropped, aching. “I told you I don’t want you adjusting yourself for me.”
“You didn’t want me comforting you either,” she whispered, “but you still needed it.”
His eyes closed for a heartbeat.
When he opened them again, his stare was softer… but deeper.
Dangerously deep.
“You shouldn’t have ended the call,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be the reason you push people away.”
She stepped closer.
Just one step.
“You’re not,” she said. “I chose to.”
His breath hitched.
“Lily… don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me want things I shouldn’t.”
The room felt smaller, hotter, quieter.
She moved another step closer.
“What things?” she whispered.
His throat bobbed.
He didn’t answer.
He couldn’t.
Instead, he looked away, shoulders tight, running a slow hand through his hair like he was fighting himself.
“You make this difficult,” he muttered.
“I make what difficult?”
“Keeping my distance.”
The confession cut through her.
Slowly, gently, she reached out—hovering her hand near his arm, but not touching him this time.
“Arden… do you want me to stay away from you?”
He turned toward her so fast she stopped breathing.
“No.”
His voice was deep. Firm. Immediate.
Too immediate.
He swallowed hard, the truth slipping despite himself.
“No,” he repeated quietly. “I don’t want you to stay away.”
The space between them pulsed.
Silent.
Trembling.
Alive.
“Then why are you acting like you do?” she whispered.
He looked at her then—completely, vulnerably, intensely—and Lily knew:
The distance wasn’t what he wanted.
It was what he feared.
- Writer
