MY BEATING HEART

CHAPTER 7- THE SIGNS I CHOOSE TO IGNORE

Midterms had finally ended, and the campus buzz slowly dissipated as students packed their bags for the Easter break. I was excited to go home, a sense of relief washing over me at the thought of spending a few weeks away from the chaos of school. But even as I settled into the familiar comfort of my parents' house, my thoughts were consumed by Daniel.

At first, I tried keeping in touch. I texted him, hoping for conversations that would make the distance feel smaller. But Daniel’s replies were brief, almost mechanical. “Busy.” “Can’t talk now.” Those two words became a mantra he chanted through text, each one sharper than the last.

I called him—more times than I could count. My phone’s call history looked like a desperate symphony of unanswered dials, each one punctuated by a silence that echoed louder than any rejection ever could. Still, I refused to see the signs.

He was slipping away. I could feel it. But my heart refused to accept the reality. I convinced myself it was just a phase, that Daniel still cared, and I only needed to hold on tighter. So I clung, refusing to let go of the thin thread that tied us together.

When the break ended, I returned to campus carrying more hope than logic. And then, as if fate decided to dangle a cruel lifeline, Daniel texted me.

"Come over," he wrote.

Those two words erased every sleepless night, every unanswered call, and every one-word reply. My heart leapt, my fingers trembling as I replied with a quick "On my way."

I arrived at his apartment feeling lighter, almost euphoric. When he opened the door, his face was calm, unreadable, but I didn’t care. I let myself believe everything was fine.

We sat together and talked—really talked—for the first time in weeks. We laughed about old jokes, reminisced about good times, and for a brief moment, it felt like nothing had changed. The tension between us dissolved, or so I thought.

When it was time to sleep, Daniel stood abruptly.

“I’ll sleep in the other room tonight,” he said, his tone casual, as if this were completely normal.

Confused but unwilling to push, I nodded and watched him leave. But as the minutes ticked by, the loneliness crept in, gnawing at the edges of my resolve. Grabbing my pillow, I tiptoed to the other room. I just wanted to be close to him—to feel like we were okay.

When I knocked softly and pushed the door open, Daniel stood there, his expression hardening instantly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Daniel snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through the stillness of the night.

Caught off guard, I stood frozen at the doorway, clutching my pillow like a shield. “I... I just wanted to spend time with you,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

He stared at me, his gaze cold and calculating, as though he were assessing whether my answer was worth any further discussion. Then, with a sigh that felt like a door slamming shut, he said, “I hope you know we’re not dating. I don’t want you catching feelings for me. If you ever fall in love with me, I think we should stop this.”

His words hit me like a brick wall. My heart raced, every beat threatening to reveal the truth I so desperately wanted to hide. He couldn't know. If he knew, he would leave, and the fragile connection we still had would shatter into irreparable pieces.

“I... I would never,” I lied, forcing the words out as I tried to mask the tremble in my voice.

Daniel’s eyes narrowed, scanning my face for any cracks in my armour. His disbelief was palpable, like a cloud thickening the air between us. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice softer now, but still laced with skepticism.

“Yes,” I said quickly, almost too quickly. “I’m sure.”

He studied me for a moment longer, then shrugged. “Go to sleep. I’m not sleeping yet.”

It was past 2 a.m., and the weariness in his voice should have mirrored my own. But instead, he seemed energized, as if the late hour only fueled him. I hesitated, wanting to say more, but the unspoken rules of our relationship silenced me. I walked towards his bed, as I lay there wishing for sleep to come. But for all the reasons in the world, like the universe trying to keep me awake for me to see that I wasn't loved by him

sleep didn’t come.

I lay there, tucked in the duvet, my thoughts a storm of confusion and longing. Why did I stay? Why did I let myself endure the ache of being near someone who would never feel the same way about me? as I la

The muffled sound of laughter pulled me from my thoughts. Curious, I raised my head starring as Daniel was sitting at his desk, his phone in hand, smiling in a way I had never seen before.

He looked... happy.

Not the reserved, polite smile he often gave me, but a wide, uninhibited grin that reached his eyes. My chest tightened as I watched him laugh softly at something—or someone—on the other end of the screen.

And then his phone rang.

The sound was sharp in the quiet apartment, and I heard him answer almost immediately. “Hey,” he said, his voice light and warm in a way that made my stomach twist.

I tried not to listen, but his words seeped through the thin walls. The conversation was easy, natural, as if they had known each other forever. He laughed again, a sound so foreign yet so familiar that it broke something inside me.

I buried my head under the pillow, desperate to block out the sound of their connection. But it was useless. My mind filled in the gaps, painting a picture of the girl on the other end—a girl who wasn’t me.

And then, like a dagger to my heart, I heard him say it.

“I love you.”

The words were casual, effortless, but they hit me with the force of a hurricane. My chest tightened, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I tried to process what I had just heard.

I wanted to scream, to cry, to demand answers. But I did none of those things. Instead, I lay there, paralyzed by the weight of his words.

He might love her, but he’s with me, I told myself, clinging to the only consolation I could find. It was a lie, of course, but it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

Daniel’s laughter continued, filling the silence with a sound that once brought me joy but now felt like a cruel reminder of everything I could never have.

I closed my eyes, pleading for sleep to take me. But even in my dreams, his words haunted me.

Morning came, dragging with it the weight of everything I’d tried to forget. The apartment was quiet, Daniel was nowhere to be seen. I barely got any sleep, my mind replaying the events of the night before like a broken record.

The words “I love you” echoed in my head, as relentless as the pounding in my chest. I had spent the night in silence, my thoughts spiraling into questions I didn’t dare ask. Who was she? What made her so special? And why, after all this time, was I still holding on to something that clearly wasn’t mine?

I forced myself out of bed, the ache in my chest weighing me down as I dressed for class. My reflection in the mirror told a story of exhaustion—dark circles under my eyes, lips pressed into a thin line, shoulders slumped. I brushed my hair quickly, trying to shake off the lingering sadness.

As I stepped out, backpack slung over my shoulder, I ran into Prisca. She was coming down the hallway, her usual bright smile lighting up the dull morning.

“Hey, Grace,” she greeted, her voice cheerful and warm. “How are you doing?”

I forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “I’m... legally alright,” I said, my tone half-hearted.

Prisca raised an eyebrow. “Legally? That’s an interesting choice of words. You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded, desperate to forget all that happened.