Arthur And Olive

CHAP 5

That morning felt too quiet.

Arthur woke up to silence. No notifications, no messages, nothing filling up his phone screen like it used to. Olive’s name wasn’t there anymore. Just a blank screen reflecting his own face.

He stayed still for a while.

Then, like a bad habit, his fingers opened his gallery. Old photos appeared. Olive laughing while closing a book. Olive looking at him with that half-annoyed expression whenever he made a joke.

Arthur smiled a little.

Then it faded.

Memories slipped in without asking. The two of them in a café corner, arguing about the same book from completely different angles. Olive, too serious. Him, trying to make it lighter.

Humor.

Arthur let out a quiet breath.

“I was just joking…”

It didn’t sound convincing. Not even to himself.

He stared at the screen a second longer, then locked it.

His thoughts kept circling anyway.

He grabbed his phone again.

“Sam,” he said when the call connected. “Coffee. Now.”

The café hadn’t changed.

Same smell. Same noise. Same people talking like nothing ever happened.

Sam and Max were already there.

Sam looked up. “You look like crap.”

Arthur dropped into the seat. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

Straight to it.

Sam and Max exchanged a glance.

“I was just joking,” Arthur continued. “That’s it. Was I wrong?”

Sam leaned back, thinking for a second.

“I’m not defending her,” he said, “but that joke? Didn’t land. At all.”

Max nodded. “Yeah.”

Arthur clicked his tongue softly.

“But I didn’t know,” he said. “I didn’t mean it.”

Sam shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Arthur frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sam said, “you don’t get to decide how it hits someone.”

Silence.

Arthur looked away.

His fingers tapped against the table, slow, uneven.

“…Whatever,” he muttered. “You guys go.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “And you?”

Arthur didn’t look up.

“I’ll figure it out.”

After they left, the café felt bigger.

Quieter.

Arthur stared at the empty seat across from him.

He didn’t need to try to remember. It was just there.

Her voice.

Her expressions.

The way she’d look at him like he was stupid… but stay anyway.

His jaw tightened slightly.

He pulled out his phone again.

Scrolled.

Stopped at her name.

His thumb hovered.

Pressed call.

The ringing felt longer than it should’ve.

Once.

Twice.

“Yeah?”

Arthur swallowed.

“Can you come to the café for a bit?” he said.

A pause.

“…Okay.”

Olive arrived not long after.

Calm steps. Cold face.

She sat down without a word.

Arthur forced a small smile.

“This place again, huh.”

Nothing.

Her eyes stayed on him, flat.

“Just say it, Arthur.”

Right.

He exhaled.

“…I’m sorry.”

The words felt stiff coming out.

“I messed up. I know that.”

A pause.

“I didn’t know about your dad. I wasn’t trying to—”

He stopped, jaw tightening.

“…I just—yeah. I screwed up.”

Better.

For a second, it almost worked.

“I want us to go back,” he added. “To how it was.”

His voice dropped a little.

“…It’s quiet without you.”

There it was.

Honest.

Raw.

And then—

he ruined it.

“But I’m not completely wrong either.”

Silence.

Arthur felt it immediately.

Too late.

Olive’s expression didn’t snap.

It sank.

“Arthur,” she said quietly, “this isn’t about being right.”

He exhaled sharply. “Then what is it about?”

“About you not knowing when to stop.”

That stung.

Arthur leaned back, frustration slipping in.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Olive looked at him.

Not angry.

Just tired.

“You really don’t hear yourself, do you?”

Arthur scoffed lightly. “Come on. You’re acting like I did something unforgivable.”

A beat.

Olive closed her eyes for a second.

That should’ve been his cue to stop.

He didn’t.

“It was a joke, Olive. One joke.”

“I can’t, Arthur.”

The words cut clean.

No raise in her voice. No shake.

Just final.

Arthur froze.

Olive opened her eyes.

“I’m tired.”

That was it.

No explanation. No argument.

Just… done.

She stood up.

And walked away.

Arthur didn’t move.

The noise of the café slowly returned, but it felt far away.

He stared at the seat in front of him.

Empty.

Something about it felt familiar.

Then it clicked.

A memory.

Same table.

Same seat.

A man sitting alone, staring into nothing while Arthur and Olive laughed like the world didn’t exist.

Arthur used to think that guy looked pathetic.

Now—

He let out a quiet breath.

“…right.”

He leaned back in his chair.

Didn’t chase her.

Didn’t call again.

Just sat there.

Alone.

And this time—

he got it.