The week passed strangely.
Not dramatic.
Not explosive.
Just… off.
Kade was the same person, but something in him felt sharper, more reactive, like every small thing I did carried a hidden meaning he was trying to decode.
And I was noticing it now but always trying to wave it off.
Avoiding the obvious
I didn't see Denzel much after the first day.
Not because I was avoiding him purposely, but because my mind was too full of Kade's sudden mood swings for anything else.
Still, every once in a while — between classes, or across the volunteer hall — I'd catch sight of him.
Always calm.
Always composed.
Always carrying himself with this quiet assurance that made everyone around him seem frantic.
And even though we weren't close, even though our conversations were barely more than nods and quick greetings, he stood out.
Not because he was loud…
but because he wasn't.
Someone I noticed but didn't approach.
Someone who didn't insert himself into my world.
Someone just existing on the edges of my awareness.
Sarah, however, made him unavoidable.
Her voice always cut across crowds, cheerful and bold, dragging him along with her noise.
I realized I knew her laugh better than his voice.
Meanwhile… Kade became unpredictable
He didn't like the new group.
He didn't like Rav.
He didn't like Student Week.
He didn't like anything that didn't revolve around him — or me choosing him.
One evening after practice, he said:
"You weren't picking your calls."
"I was busy with Lily," I said.
"Busy doing what? Walking around? Talking to new guys?"
The words hit me harder than they should have.
"Kade," I said quietly, "you're overreacting."
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
"I just don't like the idea of you getting close to other people, okay? Especially guys. I know how guys think."
I hated that he said that.
Like I was a possession.
I love him but I'm never able to seek comfort from him
He just always wants me around, showing me off or wanting us to be doing something more
Like my friendships had to be filtered through his insecurity.
Lily saw the tension when I got back to the room.
"You and Kade fought again?" she asked softly.
I didn't have the strength to lie.
"Yeah."
She sat beside me, her expression turning serious — the kind of serious she rarely used.
"I know you love him. But love shouldn't feel like someone is squeezing you."
That sentence stayed with me the whole night.
The next day, I saw Denzel again.
He wasn't doing anything special — just standing outside the arts hall, listening to Sarah rant about something hilarious.
He had that same calm expression.
That same graceful posture.
That same quiet presence that felt strangely grounding.
For a split second, my eyes met his — not intensely, not romantically.
Just a simple acknowledgement.
He nodded.
I nodded back.
That was it.
But the moment carried a strange clarity:
I didn't know him.
But I felt the difference between calm energy and chaotic energy.
Between someone who let me breathe… and someone who didn't.
Later in the day, during a volunteer meeting, Rav leaned towards me.
"You're quieter these days."
"I'm just tired," I said.
He looked at me,
"You're not tired. You're drained. That's different."
I didn't know how to respond.
So I didn't.
Rav let it go… but not fully.
"If anything ever feels wrong," he said softly, "you don't have to hide it."
That made my throat tighten.
Not because Rav was saying anything extraordinary — but because someone finally noticed what I'd been pretending didn't exist.
That evening, Kade saw me talking with Rav and Lily outside the block.
The moment his eyes landed on Rav standing beside you, something dark flickered across his face.
He walked straight to you, didn't greet anyone, and said:
"Can we talk? Now."
His tone wasn't a request.
It was a demand.
I felt Lily stiffen.
Rav's expression changed — calm, but alert.
I followed Kade a few steps away, and before I could even ask what was wrong, he said:
"I don't like the way Rav looks at you. And I don't like the way you let him."
My stomach dropped.
"Kade—"
"I'm serious," he snapped. "You're my girlfriend. Start acting like it."
For the first time, the words didn't feel like love.
They felt like a warning.
And in that moment — just a few meters away — Denzel walked past with Sarah, not noticing anything.
But I noticed him.
Not him exactly but the contrast
A quiet, calm presence versus a storm I was losing myself in.
And I knew, even if I wasn't ready to say it out loud:
Something in my relationship had changed.