The Realization
943 Words
Gemma finally got home after classes were over.
She pulled a sandwich from the freezer, the kind her mom always prepared ahead of time, and slid it into the microwave. The hum filled the kitchen, loud in a way that made her chest feel tight.
Chloe came downstairs, tying her hair up.
“What’re you making?”
“Sandwich,” Gemma said, flat.
No sarcasm. No jab. No attitude.
Chloe paused, studying her for a second longer than usual, then nodded. “Cool.” She grabbed her phone and retreated to the living room without another word.
Gemma took the sandwich upstairs once it was warm, sat on the edge of her bed and took a bite .
Her phone buzzed once.
Nothing she wanted.
She stared at the screen for a long moment before opening her messages and typing Diego’s name.
Can we talk?
Sent.
She waited.
Minutes passed. Then longer.
No reply.
Her chest tightened. She locked her phone, unlocked it again, checked; still nothing.
Impulsively, she grabbed her hoodie and slipped out of the house.
Diego’s front porch lights were on when she got there . She knocked once. Twice.
A moment later, the door opened to reveal Collins, shirt half-buttoned, hair still damp like he’d just showered.
“What do you want?” he asked flatly.
“I’m looking for Diego,” Gemma said, keeping her voice steady.
“He’s not around,” Collins replied. “Practice ran late. He’s probably out.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointment settling in her chest. “Can I… wait? Just for a bit?”
Collins hesitated, clearly annoyed, then shrugged. “Do whatever you want. I’ve got work.”
He stepped aside and went back inside, already distracted by his phone.
Gemma climbed the stairs slowly, her steps heavy, and pushed open Diego’s bedroom door.
The room smelled like him. Clean laundry and something faintly familiar she couldn’t place.
That’s when she noticed the cookie box on the desk.
Open.
A few missing. Some were already spoilt
Her lips parted in surprise.
Diego had eaten them.
Her gaze drifted around the room; and then she saw the notebook on the dresser, slightly ajar. A photo slipped out when she brushed past it by accident.
She froze.
Photos.
Not framed. Not displayed. Just tucked away. Printed snapshots taped inside a notebook. Her laughing. Her distracted. Her not looking at the camera at all.
Taken when she wasn’t trying to be anything.
Her hands trembled.
Suddenly, everything made sense in the most painful way possible.
She backed out of the room like she didn’t belong there, heart pounding, and left the house before she could think too hard about what she’d done.
Outside, she dialed Chris.
He picked up on the second ring. “What’s up?”
“What did you mean,” she asked quietly, “when you said Diego was a mess?”
There was a pause. Then a sigh.
“Gemma… you seriously don't see it?”
“See what?”
“That he likes you,” Chris said bluntly. “I mean, come on. The guy watches you like you’re the only person in the room. He covers for you. Looks out for you. Do whatever you want .”
Her eyes burned.
“I screwed up,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Chris said gently. “You did.”
The line went quiet after that.
Gemma stood there for a long time, phone in hand, realizing that she hadn’t lost Collins weeks ago.
She’d lost Diego.
And this time, it was completely her fault.
**********************************************************************
Diego didn’t come looking for her.
Gemma noticed it first in the smallest ways; how he stopped passing by her locker, how his laughter no longer floated down the hallway when she walked past the boys’ wing.
Once, she tried to catch his eye across the corridor.
He saw her.
He just… looked away.
That was when she checked her phone and realized she’d been blocked.
Her stomach dropped.
No messages.
No calls.
No way in.
And then exam week arrived like a cruel distraction.
Pages of formulas, essays, revision notes; Gemma buried herself in them because she had to. There was no space to fall apart when midterms demanded everything. Diego became a quiet ache she shoved aside, telling herself she’d fix things after. When her head was clear. When life slowed down.
After the exams ended, she waited a week.
Then she tried again.
She sent a message from a different app.
Nothing.
She waved once when she saw him outside school.
He walked past her like she wasn’t there.
The shunning hurt worse than anger ever could.
One afternoon, exhausted and fed up with the silence, Gemma went to Diego’s house after school.
Collins opened the door, controller in hand, laughter spilling from the living room behind him.
“Is Diego home?” she asked.
Collins shrugged. “Nah. Think he’s got a game or something.”
“A game?” Her heart skipped. “What game?”
“No idea.” He smirked. “Football stuff. You know how he is.”
She stepped back slowly, confusion blooming into panic.
She called Chris.
“Does Diego have a match today?” she asked the moment he picked up.
There was a pause.
“…Yeah. This afternoon.”
Her chest tightened. “Why didn’t I know about it?”
Chris exhaled. “Gemma.....”
She didn’t wait. She hung up.
Gemma turned around and started running.
Back toward the school.
Back toward the field.
Because missing that game; his game, felt like missing the last chance she might ever get.
- Writer
