Chapter 10 The question

The evening air was heavy, thick with dust and heat, pressing down on Lia's chest as she stood near the roadside. The sky had begun to darken, the sun sinking low enough to stain the clouds orange and bruised purple, but the day's warmth refused to leave. Cars passed now and then, their headlights flashing briefly across her face before disappearing, but Lia barely noticed them. She was tracing invisible lines on her palm, over and over, as if the answers she needed were hidden there, etched into her skin.

Her thoughts were loud-too loud. Every memory tangled with another, every feeling unfinished. She didn't notice Jaden at first-not until his presence shifted the air around her, until he stopped a few steps away and the silence between them suddenly felt deliberate.

"You've been avoiding me," he said.

His voice was calm, but there was something brittle beneath it, like glass stretched too thin.

She looked up, startled, her fingers curling into her palm. "I haven't."

Even as she said it, she knew how weak it sounded. Jaden didn't raise his voice or argue immediately. Instead, he let out a quiet, humorless laugh, the kind that carried disappointment more than amusement.

"You don't answer calls. You don't look at me the same. If that's not avoiding, then I don't know what is."

Lia swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She shifted her weight, eyes dropping to the ground between them. "I've just... had a lot on my mind."

"So have I," he replied, his voice tightening despite himself. "But I stayed."

That hit her harder than she expected. It landed somewhere deep, knocking the air from her lungs. Stayed. The word echoed, carrying more weight than he probably realized. She felt it in the quiet nights he hadn't been there, in the unanswered questions she'd buried instead of asking.

They stood there, the space between them thick with words neither of them had said. The streetlights flickered on one by one, casting long shadows that stretched and tangled at their feet. Jaden ran a hand through his hair, pacing once, his footsteps sharp against the pavement, before stopping in front of her again. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense, like he was holding himself together by sheer will.

"Something happened while I was gone," he said. "I don't know what it was, and I'm tired of guessing."

Lia's heart stuttered. The images rushed in uninvited-the party, the laughter, the way her chest had tightened when she saw Adrian, the moment that changed everything without her consent. "It's complicated," she whispered.

"It always is," he replied. "But complicated doesn't mean invisible."

Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears. She wanted to tell him everything-about the party, the kiss she witnessed, the way Adrian had confused her, the way Jaden's absence had hurt more than she admitted even to herself. But the truth felt messy and unfinished, like a story with torn pages and no ending.

Jaden's voice softened then, losing its edge. "Just talk to me, Lia. Don't shut me out."

She looked at him-really looked at him. At the concern in his eyes, the patience wearing thin, the hurt he was trying so hard not to show. For a moment, she almost broke. The words hovered on her tongue, begging to be let free.

Then he asked the question.

"Are you choosing him?"

The world seemed to still. Even the distant sounds of traffic faded, as though the universe itself was holding its breath.

"Adrian," he added quietly, as if saying the name out loud hurt.

Lia opened her mouth.

Nothing.

Her silence stretched, loud and unforgiving, wrapping around them like a tightening rope. Seconds passed, then more, each one heavier than the last. Jaden watched her, his eyes searching her face for something-anything-to hold onto.

Slowly, he nodded, his jaw tightening as realization settled in. "Okay," he said, though his eyes told a different story. "That's all I needed."

"That's not fair," Lia said quickly, panic rising as the moment slipped from her grasp. "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't need to," he replied. "I just needed to know where I stand."

She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing the air where his arm had been a moment before, but he stepped back, creating distance that felt final.

"I won't compete for someone who doesn't know if they want me," Jaden said. "I care about you too much for that."

The words cut clean and deep. Before she could find her voice again, he turned and walked away, his back straight, his steps steady, leaving Lia standing there with words that had come too late.

Later that night, Lia sat on the steps outside her house, arms wrapped tightly around herself. The night had cooled, but she still felt cold to the bone. Her eyes burned, but no tears fell yet-like her body was holding them hostage. The house behind her was quiet, lights dimmed, the world reduced to shadows and stillness.

She heard footsteps and looked up.

Adrian.

He stopped when he saw her, surprise flickering across his face before settling into something cautious. "I've been trying to talk to you," he said carefully. "After that night... I think we need to-"

She stood abruptly, the movement sharp, sudden. "You don't get to explain yourself to me anymore."

His expression faltered. "Lia, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know," she said, her voice steady but broken beneath the surface. "That's the worst part."

He took a step closer, his face open, vulnerable in a way she hadn't seen before. "I care about you."

She laughed softly, bitterly, the sound hollow. "Care isn't enough when it costs someone else everything."

Adrian froze, the meaning sinking in slowly, painfully. The truth settled in his chest like a weight he couldn't push away.

She walked past him without another word, brushing by his shoulder, leaving him standing there alone with his regret and unspoken apologies.

Inside her room, Lia closed the door and leaned against it, her strength finally giving way. Her phone buzzed in her hand, the sound too loud in the quiet.

A message.

From Jaden's brother, Holland.

"Jaden didn't tell you, but he's leaving earlier than planned. He didn't want to say goodbye. Thought it would hurt less that way."

Lia stared at the screen, her breath catching painfully in her chest. Leaving.

Again.

This time, because of her.

Her knees gave out and she sank onto the bed, the realization crashing down-not about Adrian, not about confusion-but about what she was on the verge of losing permanently. The weight of her silence pressed in on her, heavier than any choice she hadn't made.

And for the first time, Lia knew one thing with terrifying clarity:

If she didn't act now, the silence would choose for her.