It was just past midnight when Nicole found herself staring at the ceiling, lying stiff in bed, her arms resting over her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together. Her room was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that made every thought louder, every memory sharper.
She had been pretending for weeks—laughing when needed, smiling when expected. But when she was alone, the weight of her choices crept in like a slow leak, flooding her chest with guilt she could no longer ignore.
She had done it again.
Pushed someone away.
Hurt someone who loved her.
First it was Erica.
Now Claude.
And the worst part?
She wasn't even sure what she was trying to protect anymore—herself, or the version of herself that everyone thought she was.
She sat up slowly, reached for her phone on the nightstand, and stared at the screen. Claude's name sat there in her message history, the last message from him was something sweet. Something about taking her out to eat after his basketball practice. She hadn't even replied.
Her chest tightened.
It wasn't fair to him.
He didn't deserve to be dragged along while her heart drifted in a direction she didn't understand yet—or maybe didn't want to understand. All she knew was that she couldn't lie anymore. Not to him. Not to herself.
Her thumb hovered over the call button for a moment before she pressed it.
It rang once.
Twice.
"Hey, babe." Claude's voice was soft, sleepy. She could hear the rustling of sheets.
She hesitated, her voice catching in her throat.
"Nicole?"
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
He sat up on the other end, the change in his breathing obvious. "Sorry for what?"
"I… I don't think I should keep doing this," she whispered. "With you."
A silence stretched between them.
"What are you talking about?" Claude asked, voice tense now.
"I can't keep pretending I feel something I don't," she said, her words trembling. "You don't deserve someone who's still stuck in the past."
"So, this is it?" he asked, disbelief coloring his voice. "Just like that?"
"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I never wanted to hurt you."
She hung up before he could answer. Her hands were shaking. Her chest hurt. She let the phone slip from her hand and fell back onto the bed, eyes brimming with tears.
She remembered Erica's face when they last talked—really talked. That flash of pain in her eyes when Nicole let her go like she didn't matter. But she did. Erica always did.
And now Claude… she did it again.
---
Weeks passed.
Nicole stopped hanging out with the group entirely. She avoided the cafeteria during their usual lunch breaks, changed seats in class when possible, and started spending time with her old circle of friends—the ones she rarely spoke to anymore. It was easier that way. Less explaining, less guilt, fewer reminders of everything she'd broken.
But people noticed.
Especially the group.
At first, they thought she just needed space. But then it became obvious—she wasn't coming back. Not soon, not like before.
Erica didn't say much about it. She had Angel now. She had peace. But anyone who looked closely could tell she noticed Nicole's absence. She just chose not to speak of it.
One afternoon, the group gathered on the back bleachers near the gym. The sun was low, casting long shadows on the court. Claude sat alone on the lower steps, staring at the ground. He hadn't been himself lately—he was quieter, lost in thought, going through practice like a machine.
Vinish had been watching him for a while now, chewing on a straw. Eventually, he stood up and made his way down.
"You good, man?" he asked casually.
Claude looked up, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Just tired."
"You've been tired for weeks now," Vinish said. "Is this about Nicole?"
Claude hesitated.
Then he nodded. "We broke up."
Everyone nearby went still. Kim, Risha, Steph—eyes darted toward them subtly.
"Wait, what?" Vinish blinked. "When?"
"A few weeks ago," Claude admitted. "She just… called me one night and ended it. No warning, no explanation."
"Damn," Kim whispered.
"She said she couldn't keep pretending she felt something," Claude continued, his voice tight. "She said she was stuck in the past."
No one spoke.
The silence was heavy.
Then Risha spoke softly, not looking up. "That's exactly how she broke up with Erica."
Claude turned his head sharply.
"What?"
"She didn't explain much to Erica either," Risha said. "She just… left. Like she didn't want to face the mess. Like disappearing was easier."
Claude looked down again, and for the first time in a while, he didn't defend her.
"I really liked her," he said. "I was serious. I thought… maybe she just needed time to fall in love properly again. I guess I was wrong."
Erica stood at the top of the bleachers, arms crossed, her jaw clenched. She hadn't meant to listen in—but she heard it all.
And it made her furious.
Not at Claude. Not at her friends.
But at Nicole.
Why did she keep doing this?
Why did she always walk away when things got hard?
Erica turned around and walked away from the group, fists clenched at her sides. Angel saw her leave, confusion flashing across her face, but she didn't stop her.
Everyone felt bad—for Claude, for Erica. There was a weight hanging in the air that hadn't been there before.
Whatever was going on with Nicole, it was deeper than they understood.
But the damage had been done.
And this time, nobody knew if it could be undone.