Chapter Seven: Silent Distance
446 Words
The next morning, the sun was back — too bright for how heavy Max felt inside.
He walked into school like always: calm on the outside, unsettled beneath.
The halls buzzed with energy. But Max felt… distant.
Isabella hadn’t replied to his messages. Hazel hadn’t said a word since the hallway.
Even Dele’s crew noticed.
“Bro, you dey alright?” Victor asked, elbowing him at their usual bench.
Max shrugged. “I’m good.”
Jay squinted. “This bet messing with you or what?”
Max didn’t answer.
Because it was.
---
In class, Isabella avoided his glance.
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t frown.
She just… wasn’t there — at least not for him.
Hazel, on the other hand, was all sharp smiles and sarcasm.
“Still playing both sides?” she asked him after chemistry.
“No shame at all.”
“Hazel, I didn’t—”
She cut him off. “Relax. I’m not mad. I just don’t like liars.”
Then she was gone again, hair swinging, eyes unreadable.
Max stood there, surrounded by noise and people… yet more alone than he’d been at Lakeside.
---
After school, he didn’t go home.
He wandered.
Past the school gate. Down the road to the old football court.
He sat on the bleachers, hands clasped, staring at nothing.
Dele showed up twenty minutes later.
“Figured I’d find you here,” he said, kicking a bottle aside. “So what’s up?”
Max sighed. “I think I messed it up.”
“Hazel?”
“Hazel and Isabella.”
Dele sat beside him. “Bro, the bet was dumb. But you’re not dumb. You just forgot something.”
“What?”
Dele looked him dead in the eyes.
“That hearts aren’t trophies.”
Max didn’t reply. But the words stayed with him.
---
That night, Max didn’t open the group chat.
He didn’t scroll. He didn’t joke.
Instead, he drafted a message.
To Isabella:
“I owe you the truth. Not because I want something from you — but because you deserve it.”
He stared at it. Backspaced. Rewrote it again.
Then another.
To Hazel:
“I messed up. I know you don’t owe me anything. But if I could take back the game, I would. Because it was never a game to me — not after I met you.”
He sat there for almost an hour…
Heart pounding.
Thumb hovering over Send.
And then — he sent both.
---
The next morning… no replies.
Just silence.
But for the first time in weeks, Max didn’t feel fake.
He felt like himself.
Even if that meant starting over —
Alone.
- Writer
