The Visit
1346 Words
The next few days were quiet. Too quiet.
Savannah and I didn’t talk after that night in her dorm. Her words replayed in my head every time I tried to focus on anything else:
“Don’t make me fall if you’re not ready to catch me.”
But the truth was… I wasn’t sure if I was ready to catch anyone.
Not her.
Not Joy.
Not even myself.
It was a strange in-between.
Joy’s text still sat unanswered on my phone.
Savannah’s silence now felt louder than Joy’s distance.
It was like being haunted by two ghosts.
One of a love that once was.
The other, of a love that was waiting to be born, if we let it.
Monday morning, I saw her again.
Savannah.
In the quad, under a sycamore tree, her notebook in her lap, a pink pen twirling between her fingers. Her hair was braided back, her hoodie too big for her frame, and for a second, I let myself stare.
Then I saw him.
The guy next to her.
Tall. Athletic build. Braided hair tied up neatly.
He laughed at something she said, nudged her shoulder. She smiled. Not the fake kind. The real kind. The kind I used to think only I brought out of her.
I stood there, frozen.
Savannah looked up. Saw me.
Her smile faded not completely, but enough for me to feel it.
She said something to him, then stood.
Walked toward me.
I didn’t move.
“Hey,” she said, voice calm. Controlled.
“Hey.”
“You saw me,” she said. “I figured we might as well not pretend.”
“Is that…?”
“Eli,” she nodded. “My ex.”
I tried not to show anything on my face. But I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. The weight pressing into my chest.
“He came to visit?”
“He’s staying for a few days,” she said, voice tight. “Wanted to talk. Figure things out.”
“And… do you want that?”
She looked down, then up again.
“I don’t know what I want, Martins. That’s why he’s here.”
The words stung.
More than I wanted to admit.
“Right,” I said. “Well… I hope you figure it out.”
I turned to leave.
But she caught my wrist. “Martins.”
I stopped.
She let go, slowly. “He’s not you.”
“That doesn’t matter if he still has your heart.”
Her lips parted. But no words came.
So I walked away.
And for the first time since I arrived at Pacific Heights, I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere.
I skipped class that afternoon.
Skipped lunch.
Skipped checking my phone.
I went to the riverwalk and sat for hours on the edge of the concrete bank, watching the water move without purpose the same way I felt inside.
Joy still hadn’t said anything else.
Savannah had someone else sitting beside her.
And me? I had a spiral notebook and too many feelings to put into words.
I pulled it out anyway. Wrote half a page of metaphors that didn’t make sense. Then tore it up.
By the time I got back to campus, it was evening. I hadn’t eaten all day, but I didn’t care.
I went straight to the library, sat in our usual corner, even though I knew she wouldn’t come.
And she didn’t.
But someone else did.
“Yo. Martins, right?”
I looked up.
Eli.
He stood tall over the table, hands in the pockets of a windbreaker, his expression unreadable.
I stood slowly. “Yeah?”
“I figured we should talk.”
“About what?”
“Savannah.”
Of course.
I crossed my arms. “What about her?”
“She told me about you,” he said, voice even. “About your study sessions. The writing. The… connection.”
My stomach twisted. “And?”
“She says nothing happened. That you two were just classmates. Partners for a project.”
I nodded once. “That’s true.”
“But see,” he continued, “I know her. I know when she’s hiding something. When she’s trying to protect someone.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Look, man,” he said, “I’m not here to fight. I’m not even mad at you. I just want you to know… I’m not giving up on her. We’ve been through too much. And I’m not gonna let someone slide in just because I’m not around 24/7.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have left,” I said before I could stop myself.
He stared at me.
I stared back.
A full second passed. Then two.
Then he stepped back. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
He turned. Walked away.
And just like that, the library felt smaller.
That night, I couldn’t sleep again.
I kept replaying the conversation.
His tone. His warning.
The look in Savannah’s eyes when she said she didn’t know what she wanted.
I picked up my phone and opened a text to Joy. I typed:
Do you still love me?
I deleted it.
Typed again:
I miss you. Even if it feels like you’re slipping away.
I deleted that too.
Closed the app.
Opened my Notes instead. Wrote this:
Love isn’t a promise. It’s a choice you have to keep making… even when it stops being easy.
Then I fell asleep on my desk.
The next day, Savannah showed up at my door.
My actual dorm door.
She knocked once. I opened it, surprised, still in sweats and a half-buttoned shirt.
She looked tired. Her eyes were glassy.
But she held her notebook in her hand.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” she said softly.
I stepped aside.
She walked in. Sat on the edge of my bed. Didn’t speak.
I closed the door.
Silence.
Then she said, “He kissed me.”
My heart dropped.
“But I didn’t kiss him back.”
I looked at her. She was shaking slightly. Her fingers gripped her notebook like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
“I wanted to feel something,” she whispered. “To remember why we used to work. But it just felt… wrong.”
I moved closer. Sat beside her.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said, breaking. “I feel guilty all the time. Like I’m betraying a version of myself I don’t even believe in anymore.”
“You’re not,” I said.
“I am. And so are you.”
I swallowed hard. “I know.”
Then, slowly, she handed me the notebook.
“Read page sixteen,” she said.
I flipped it open.
Scrolled through her tiny handwriting until I found the page.
She’d written a poem.
About me.
He came like a question I wasn’t ready to answer.
With hands I wasn’t ready to hold.
With eyes that saw too much.
And silence that spoke louder than promises.
He made me feel something real again…
And now I don’t know if I want to forget how that feels.
I read it three times.
By the end, I couldn’t breathe.
She looked at me. “That’s how I feel, Martins.”
I didn’t know what to say.
So I did the only thing I could.
I leaned in.
And kissed her.
It wasn’t passionate. It wasn’t desperate.
It was soft. Gentle. Like asking a question without saying the words.
Her lips trembled against mine. She didn’t pull away.
Not until her phone buzzed.
She looked at it.
Then at me.
Then stood.
“I have to go,” she whispered.
“Savannah”
But she was already at the door.
She turned once before leaving. Her eyes red.
“I kissed you back. That means something. But it also changes everything.”
The door closed.
And I sat alone in the silence she left behind.
Wondering if I’d just opened a door we couldn’t ever close again.
- Writer
