Chapter 19
1301 Words
Timothy’s POV ♤
The smell of pizza should’ve made me happy.
It usually did. It was comfort food — something simple that always worked when things were complicated. But sitting there across from Mum, watching her stare at me like I’d just announced I was dropping out of life, it didn’t feel comforting at all.
“Break?” she asked, her tone trying to stay calm. “Timothy…” she started, but I cut her off.
I clenched my jaw. “Mum, it’s just for one semester,” I said, trying not to raise my voice, already frustrated. “I need time to figure things out,” I added.
Her brows furrowed like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Figure things out?” she asked mockingly. “What is there to figure out, Timothy? You worked so hard to get in, and now you want to throw it away?”
“I’m not throwing it away,” I snapped. I couldn’t help myself.
I didn’t want to talk about grades, or future plans, or how I’d ‘make something of myself.’ I was just tired. Tired of pretending to have it together when I didn’t.
“Mum, I just… I don’t want to talk about this right now,” I added after a while.
Mum sighed heavily and rubbed her temple. “Fine,” she said softly, though her tone carried exhaustion. I scoffed mentally in my head — if anyone should be exhausted, it should be me.
Then she looked at Amber, forcing a small smile. “Amber, maybe you’d like to see the campus sometime. If you decide to go to college here, Timothy can show you around.”
I froze.
Her eyes widened slightly at the sudden mention of me. “Oh, um… sure,” she said quietly, trying to smile back, though I could tell she wasn’t too comfortable with the situation she was in.
“Really? You’re bringing her into this?” I hissed, glaring at her — offended and embarrassed.
“I’m not bringing anyone into anything,” Mum replied calmly. “I’m simply saying she could check it out with you, if she’s interested in attending.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “If I decide to go back.”
The silence afterward was brutal. I hated it — hated the way Amber looked down awkwardly, hated the way Mum sighed like she’d failed as a parent.
Dinner didn’t last much longer. The light-hearted teasing from earlier was gone, replaced with small, polite smiles that didn’t reach anyone’s eyes.
---
The ride home felt like a punishment. Mum’s hands were steady on the wheel, but the silence said everything. Amber sat quietly in the backseat, staring out the window like she wished she could disappear.
When we finally pulled into the driveway, Mum turned off the engine but didn’t move. The headlights dimmed, leaving us in half-darkness.
“Alright,” she said gently, turning toward me. “You and I will talk later.”
“Mum—” I started, but she cut me off softly.
“Not now. Let’s not ruin the rest of the evening.”
I scoffed — like we hadn’t already done that.
“Fine,” I muttered, giving up, pushing open the door and heading inside before she could say anything else.
---
I went straight to my room, pacing. I didn’t even know why I was so angry.
Maybe because she didn’t understand. Maybe because she was right.
College wasn’t the problem. I was.
I sat on my bed, staring at the glow of my phone screen until my vision blurred. For some reason, I opened my messages — and there it was.
“Lydia 💔”
My chest tightened just seeing her name. I hadn’t heard from her since the day she slammed that door in my face. But now, there it was — a new message.
Lydia 💔: I know I don’t have the right to message you.
But I can’t stop thinking about that evening.
I’m sorry, Tim. For everything.
You didn’t deserve how I treated you.
I just… didn’t know how to love you the way you needed.
I hope you’re okay.
I stared at the message, my throat tightening. It wasn’t much, but somehow it made every emotion I’d been burying start to resurface.
Anger. Sadness. Confusion.
And guilt — because even though I’d told myself I was over her, part of me still missed her.
I locked my phone and tossed it aside like it had burned me.
After a while, I realized I hadn’t apologized to Amber yet, so I stepped out of my room and headed to hers. The conversation was refreshing — she was refreshing, and smart. I smiled, already feeling a bit better as I got back to my room, laying on my bed and staring at the ceiling in silence.
---
A soft knock at my door broke the quiet.
“Tim?”
Mum’s voice.
I sighed, rubbing my face. “Yeah, come in.”
She stepped in, still in her clothes from earlier, but looking exhausted in a way that wasn’t physical. “Can we talk now?”
I nodded, sitting up. “Sure.”
She closed the door and leaned against the frame, crossing her arms gently. “You know I’m not angry, right?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
“Don’t do that,” she said softly. “I just want to understand what’s going on.”
I stared down at my hands. “I just… don’t feel like I belong there right now, Mum. Everything feels pointless. I’m doing things because I’m supposed to, not because I want to.”
She nodded slowly. “And you think stepping away will help?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I need to try something.”
She sighed and came to sit beside me, resting her hand gently on mine. “You’ve been through a lot, Tim. More than you admit. But running from life isn’t the same as taking a break.”
“I’m not running.”
“Then what are you doing?” she asked quietly.
I didn’t have an answer.
She studied me for a long moment before speaking again. “I know you’re lost right now. And maybe you need time — but at least try to continue. If by next month you still don’t want to, we can have this conversation again.”
I nodded slowly, her words sinking in deeper than I wanted to admit. “Okay,” I murmured.
She smiled faintly and stood. “Good. And Timothy…”
“Yeah?”
She hesitated, her tone softening. “Amber really looks up to you. Don’t let your mood push her away, okay? She’s had enough people do that.”
That hit harder than anything else she could’ve said. Good thing I’d already apologized to her.
I just nodded again, watching as she left the room quietly.
---
A few minutes later, I picked up my phone again and reread Lydia’s message — once, twice — before finally typing a reply.
Me: Thanks for saying that.
But I think we’re both better off letting go.
Take care of yourself.
I hit send before I could change my mind and threw the phone face-down on my desk.
Then I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Amber — about her shy smile, her quiet voice, how she made this house feel less empty without even trying.
Maybe that was why I felt so protective of her already.
Because she wasn’t just a stranger anymore.
She was the first thing in a long time that made me want to try again.
- Writer
