Chapter 4 4

What I Couldn't Say

Adrian's POV

I don't know what I was thinking that night.

Or maybe I do, and I just don't want to admit it.

I've been trying to rewind it all-her fingers in my hoodie, the way her voice shook when she said she'd never kissed anyone before, how she looked at me in the morning, curled up in my sheets like a song I didn't deserve to hear twice.

And I can't stop thinking about the fact that I didn't stop it.

I kissed Carolin Mark.

I held her.

I made love to the same girl I laughed at in sophomore year for limping in the hallway.

The same girl I used to call "Casper" because she disappeared so easily into the background. The same girl whose piano playing I mocked once to my friends, just to seem cool.

Now I'm the fool.

Because I can't stop seeing her everywhere I go.

Not just in the literal sense-although that too. She's in the halls, in the music wing behind her guitar like it's armor.

But she's also in my head, in my chest, in the ache I wake up with.

And I can't even talk to her.

Not because I don't want to.

Because I don't know how.

When she left that morning, pulling the sheet around herself like it was a shield, I knew I'd done something wrong. She said it was a mistake and I let her.

I didn't argue, I didn't chase her. I stood there like a coward and watched her walk out.

Because deep down, I believed her.

Not that she was a mistake.

That I was.

Because what the hell am I supposed to do now? Apologize for years of silence and cruelty and expect her to believe me? To trust that I suddenly see her for who she is?

I didn't just kiss a girl that night.

I kissed a storm I helped create.

And it's eating me alive.

It started the night after she left.

I thought I'd feel lighter, like I'd gotten it out of my system. But instead, my chest felt like it had caved in.

I didn't text her.

I typed a message twenty times.

> "Are you okay?"

"Last night meant something, didn't it?"

"I'm sorry."

I deleted them all.

What was I apologizing for? The kiss? The night? Or the years that came before it?

I saw her again at school, walking down the locker hall, her hair pulled up like she didn't care anymore, her eyes darker than usual.

She looked right through me.

And that hurt more than anything else.

Because I was used to her being invisible.

I wasn't used to being invisible to her.

Ethan asked her a question in class the other day.

She smiled.

That soft, hesitant smile she used to give her best friend Mabel, the kind that made you feel like you were lucky to earn it.

And I hated how much it burned in my throat.

I've always been the guy everyone saw.

And now the one girl I want to notice me is pretending I don't exist.

I don't blame her.

I just don't know how to fix it.

"You've been weird lately," Damian my friend said during lunch, mouth full of fries.

I ignored him.

"You and Carolin. Something happen?"

I looked up surprised. "What?"

He shrugged. "I saw her leaving your building last weekend. Looked like she'd seen a ghost."

I swallowed hard. "Nothing happened."

"Yeah?" He leaned in. "Because rumor has it you two-"

"Don't," I said, louder than I meant to.

He held up his hands. "Okay, chill. Didn't know it was like that."

Neither did I.

I went home that night and sat at the edge of my bed, staring at the crumpled hoodie she'd worn.

I picked it up.

It still smelled like her_old books.

And that was the moment I realized I didn't regret what happened between us.

I regretted not saying what I felt when I had the chance.

I regretted being a coward.

A week later, I saw her in the west wing music room-the same place that first video had been taken.

She didn't notice me at first.

She was singing again, her voice low and haunting.

🎵 "I gave away the parts of me / I swore I'd never lose..." 🎵

My breath caught in my throat.

I stayed hidden in the doorway, like a thief.

Because that's what I was.

I stole her moment. I took her trust and gave her silence.

She finished the song and stared down at the piano keys like they might bite her.

And then she whispered, "Why did I let him in?"

I left before she saw me.

Because hearing that hurt more than any slap could've.

The next day, I went to the studio on campus. I plugged in my guitar, hit record.

And I started writing.

Not for TikTok. Not for the festival.

For her.

The girl with music in her bones and fire in her voice.

The girl I'd broken just by existing.

🎵 "I was wrong in every way / didn't know how to say / that your silence said more than my name ever could..." 🎵

It wasn't enough.

But it was something.

Three weeks passed.

And I didn't know if she hated me, or worse-forgot me.

Until the school principal made an announcement during assembly:

> "Carolin Mark has been invited to perform at the Assembly ground." To prepare her for the forthcoming Festival

The auditorium erupted in noise.

People clapped.

Some were surprised.

Others acted like they'd known all along.

But I just sat there, hands clenched.

Because I didn't clap.

I couldn't.

Not when I knew she deserved more than a standing ovation.

She deserved a real apology.

After the assembly, I found her by the vending machines.

She was alone. For once.

She looked tired but beautiful. Still out of my league.

I stepped into her line of vision. "Hey."

She didn't jump.

She didn't run.

But her face stayed blank. "Hi."

"I heard the news," I said. "About the festival."

She nodded.

"That's amazing, Carolin."

She said nothing.

"I wrote a song," I added, stupidly. "About... you. About everything."

Her expression flickered.

"I know you don't owe me anything. And I'm not asking for a second chance. I just... wanted you to hear it."

I handed her the earbuds.

She didn't take them.

"I'll listen when I'm ready," she said.

I nodded, forcing a smile. "That's fair."

Then she walked away.

And for once-I didn't follow.

That night, I played the song for myself again.

And for the first time, the lyrics didn't feel like redemption.

They felt like truth.

Because the thing about silence?

Sometimes it's not the absence of sound.

It's the loud of everything you should've said.

And I had so much more to say.

But I didn't know if she'd ever let me say it again.

So I waited.

And hoped that someday...

She would.