After getting the space I thought I wanted, I could say it gave me a chance to check myself out. To really breathe, to see if I could stand without Charlie holding me up. But the truth? I was lonely.
Charlie kept his distance, but it wasn't the kind of distance that gave me clarity. It was the kind that left me hollow. He was still there, across the room, down the hall, just a few feet away, but never close enough to touch, never close enough to feel safe.
And when he did look at me, his eyes carried something sharp. Jealousy.
He had always been protective, but now it was like his silence sharpened it. Overprotective. Overwhelming. Watching me when I talked to someone else, his gaze heavy enough to make my words stumble. He didn't say anything, but the message was clear: he hated seeing me with anyone else.
And me? I hated it too. Not because I didn't want him to care, but because it felt like I couldn't be myself. I had asked for space, but all I had done was create a cage with invisible walls, one built from his jealousy, my doubts, and the silence growing between us.
One afternoon, I sat with a few classmates, pretending to laugh at a joke I barely understood. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Charlie watching. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, his stare burning a hole straight through me. The moment our eyes met, my smile faltered. My laughter died. And just like that, the air between us grew heavier again.
Later, when the others left, Charlie finally approached me. His voice was quiet, but it carried weight.
You looked like you were having fun.
I searched his face, but his eyes gave him away. That wasn't curiosity. That was accusation.
Charlie… I started, but the words tangled in my throat.
He looked away, shaking his head. You don't get it, Coral. Every time I see you with them, it feels like you're slipping further away from me.
Something in me cracked. You asked for space too, I said, my voice rising. You're the one who stepped back first. How am I supposed to live my life if you're going to stare at me like I'm betraying you every time I talk to someone?
Charlie's eyes flashed, a storm breaking loose. I stepped back because you asked for it, Coral. I gave you what you wanted. But you can't expect me to just stand here and watch while you let everyone else in.
My chest tightened, the words spilling out before I could stop them. Ever since we became so close, you have made me neglect all the friends I had before you. You know I had friends before you, but you always wanted me by your side. Anytime I spoke to them or even had a little moment with them, you'd say I left you all by yourself. Come on, Charlie! I might not be the most social person, but I miss the old me, not this sulky version of myself that I've become.
But you would leave me all alone sometimes too. To go play tennis with some guys in class or to play cards with them. And then you'd come back apologizing, and I would act as if everything was right, but no, it isn't.
The words tumbled out sharp and raw, louder than I meant them to be. For once, I didn't hold back. I wanted him to hear the weight of what I'd been carrying, the pieces I had been swallowing down just to keep the peace between us.
We stood there, staring at each other, both of us angry, both of us hurting, neither of us sure how to step back without shattering everything.
The silence between us stretched, heavy and unyielding. I could hear my own heartbeat, too fast, too loud, as if it wanted to drown out the weight of what I had just said. For a second, I almost wished I could take it all back, swallow the words and pretend none of this conversation had happened.
But I couldn't. They were out now, raw and sharp, hanging in the air between us like broken glass.
Charlie's eyes softened for just a flicker, but then the storm rushed back in. He looked away, his hands tightening into fists at his sides, like he was holding back something he couldn't let loose.
You think I don't notice, he said finally, his voice low but shaking. You think I don't see how unhappy you've been? Do you think I wanted this? To be the guy who everyone says is jealous, controlling, suffocating? His eyes snapped back to mine, burning. I only wanted to keep you safe, Coral. I thought that was enough. I thought… I thought you wanted me to.
My chest ached at the crack in his voice, at the way his anger folded into something more fragile, more human. But instead of softening, my own hurt flared.
I wanted you, Charlie, I whispered. Not the prison you built around me. Not the version of us where I have to give up every piece of myself just to make you feel secure.
I took a shaky breath, forcing the last truth out of me. You know when I told Michael about us, you were so angry. But you know what? The last time we argued, he was the one who helped me. And I thought… what if he hadn't known anything? Who would have helped then?
Charlie, you're not the only one who cares. I care too.
The words burned in my throat, but I didn't wait for his reply. I turned and stomped off, leaving him standing in the courtyard, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air between us.
For the first time, I walked away not because I wanted space, but because I didn't know what else to do.
The sound of my footsteps echoed down the courtyard, sharp and hollow. I didn't even know where I was heading, only that I needed to move, to get away from him, from the fire burning in my chest, from the look on his face when I said those things.
The air felt too thin, my throat tight. Every word I had thrown at Charlie replayed in my head like glass breaking over and over again. Each crack louder, sharper, more permanent.
Maybe I had gone too far. Maybe I should have stopped at you're too protective, but no, I had dug deeper, hit nerves that were never meant to be touched. And yet, another part of me whispered that he had pushed me there. That this was what happens when you trap something for too long, it claws for air, even if it tears itself open in the process.
The world around me was quiet, but my mind wasn't. His voice, the way it had broken when he said I only wanted to keep you safe, echoed in me until I wanted to scream. I knew he meant it. I knew he loved me. But that was the problem. His love always came with walls.
By the time I reached the school gate, the sky had darkened, bleeding shades of blue and purple into the horizon. The driver wasn't there yet, probably stuck in traffic. For once, I was grateful. I needed the stillness, even if it hurt.
I leaned against the cold metal post, my hands trembling slightly. I thought I wanted this, space, air, freedom, but standing there, all I could feel was the ache of being untethered.
Behind me, footsteps. Slow, deliberate.
I didn't need to turn to know it was him.
Charlie.
His presence had a gravity I could never ignore. He stopped a few steps behind me, saying nothing. But even without words, I could feel the tension crackling between us, like the air before lightning strikes.
Coral, he said finally. His voice was lower than before, strained, almost broken. You shouldn't have walked off like that.
I exhaled through my nose, keeping my eyes on the empty road ahead. I couldn't stay.
After everything we said? His tone carried frustration, but beneath it was fear. You can't just walk away every time something gets hard.
That made me turn around. My eyes met his, and for a moment, everything else fell away. You think I wanted to? I said quietly. You think I like this, this distance, this silence? I don't. But what am I supposed to do when every time I try to breathe, you think it's me leaving you?
He stepped closer, just enough that I could see the anger tighten his jaw. Because that's what it feels like, Coral. Every time you pull away, it feels like you're slipping out of reach. And I can't—
Can't what? I cut in. Can't let me go? Can't let me have friends? Can't let me figure out who I am without you?
Can't lose you! His voice broke through the quiet like thunder, his eyes bright with something raw and desperate. I can't lose you, Coral. Not after everything. You're the only thing that makes sense anymore.
The words hit hard, but they didn't comfort me. They terrified me. Because love like that, love born out of fear, never stays gentle. It consumes.
I swallowed hard, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. You already lost me, Charlie. The moment you stopped seeing me as a person and started seeing me as something you had to protect.
For a second, the world stopped moving. His expression faltered, the anger, the fear, the possessiveness, all of it flickered behind his eyes, warring with something softer, something that still loved me.
I didn't mean to, he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. I just… I don't know how to love you without holding on too tight.
The wind picked up then, brushing past us, cool against my face. It carried with it the faint sound of the last few students leaving, laughter, chatter, normalcy, everything we had lost.
You can learn, I said, my voice shaking. But you can't learn if you won't let go.
He looked down, his hands curling into fists at his sides. You make it sound easy.
It's not, I whispered. But I can't keep breaking myself just to make you feel whole.
The driver's car finally turned the corner. I could see the headlights cutting through the dusk, bright and slow. Charlie's eyes followed the movement, and for a heartbeat, I thought he'd ask me to stay, to talk, to fix things, to pretend we could just rewind it all. But he didn't.
He just nodded once, sharply, like he understood, or maybe like he was giving up.
Fine, he said quietly. Go.
I hesitated, my chest tight, the word hanging between us heavier than it should have been. But I went.
When I climbed into the car, I didn't look back at first. I couldn't. The moment I did, I knew it would undo me. But as we pulled away, something made me glance through the window.
Charlie was still there, standing at the gate, motionless, the wind tugging at his hair, his expression unreadable. For a moment, our eyes met again through the glass. And even from that distance, I could see it, the ache, the confusion, the love that neither of us knew how to handle anymore.
I turned away before the tears came.
That night, the silence in my room was unbearable. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself I had done the right thing. That space meant healing. That love needed distance to survive.
But all I could hear was the echo of his voice. I don't know how to love you without holding on too tight.
And deep down, I wasn't sure I knew how to love him without breaking.
By the time I got home, the silence felt heavier than anything Coral had said. It followed me from the gate to the hallway and up the stairs, clinging to my chest like fog that wouldn't lift.
Our house was as bright and perfect as always, the kind of place people admired from the outside. But inside, it was just echoes. The distant sound of my mother's heels against the marble floor, the muffled hum of my father on a call, and somewhere beneath it all, the quiet ache of a family that had long stopped feeling like one.
I walked past the dining room. Dinner was already set, untouched, polished silverware gleaming under the chandelier light. My mother looked up from her tablet, gave me a brief, distracted smile.
You're late, she said, not really asking why.
I wasn't hungry, I muttered, and before she could respond, I was already halfway up the stairs.
My room greeted me with the same cold stillness. I dropped my bag by the door and collapsed onto the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. The quiet was deafening.
In the mirror across from me, I caught sight of myself, hair messy, eyes sunken, shoulders tense. For a second, I didn't recognize the person staring back. He looked like someone worn thin, someone who had spent too long pretending he was in control.
For the first time, I had no one to talk to.
No Coral waiting to text.
No voice to calm me when my thoughts started to spin.
Just me, and the echo of his words.
You're not the only one who cares. I care too.
I closed my eyes, and his voice came back clearer. I could still see him, the frustration in his face, the way he stomped off, the tremor in his voice when he said those words. They weren't meant to hurt. They were meant to reach me. But I was too blind, too proud, to listen.
I thought I was protecting him. That's what I told myself, every time I stepped in, every time I cut someone off before they could hurt him. But now that I was alone, the truth hit harder: I wasn't protecting him. I was protecting my own fear.
Fear of losing him.
Fear of being replaced.
Fear that if I let him breathe, he might realize he didn't need me at all.
My chest ached. I leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I remembered the first time Coral smiled at me, really smiled, not that polite one he gave everyone else. It was the kind of smile that made everything else fade for a moment. I think that was the moment I started building my world around him. And maybe that was the problem.
When you build your world around one person, you forget that they're supposed to be free too.
My phone buzzed on the desk, dragging me back. I reached for it, hoping, stupidly, that it would be him. It wasn't. Just a message from a group chat: Tennis tomorrow? 4PM?
I dropped the phone back down. My stomach twisted. The idea of showing up, laughing, pretending everything was fine, it felt wrong. Empty.
I opened Coral's chat instead. His name glowed softly on the screen. The last message from him sat there, quiet and haunting. I care too.
I stared at it for a long time. My thumb hovered over the keyboard, but I couldn't type anything. How do you apologize for loving someone too much, for turning care into control, affection into a cage?
Every word I thought of felt small. Useless. Sorry wouldn't fix the space I had forced him to ask for.
I set the phone down again, running a hand through my hair. The mirror caught my reflection once more, the same hollow stare, the same tired face. I hated it. Not because Coral said those things, but because he was right.
Ever since he came into my life, everything else had blurred around the edges, my friends, my hobbies, even who I was outside of him. He became my focus, my reason, my calm and my chaos. And I didn't even see how much of myself I had poured into him until it started to spill over.
I pressed my palms against the desk and exhaled. The room felt smaller by the second, the air too thick. My chest felt tight, like my guilt was something alive inside me, clawing its way up.
I thought about messaging him again, about saying something, anything, that might make him understand that I never meant to hurt him. That everything I did, the protecting, the jealousy, the hovering, came from fear, not malice.
But fear isn't love. And that realization hit harder than I was ready for.
I sat there for what felt like hours. The lights outside dimmed, and the house sank deeper into quiet. My parents' voices faded, the sound of the television downstairs became a dull hum, and still, I stayed frozen in that chair, watching the night swallow the last bit of light.
I wanted to believe this space was temporary, that Coral would cool down, that I'd figure out how to change, that somehow we'd find our way back. But the longer I sat there, the less sure I became.
Because maybe he didn't just need space. Maybe he needed to remember who he was without me.
And maybe I needed to remember who I was before him.
When I finally lay back, exhaustion tugging at me, my phone lit up again. I didn't check it. Couldn't. I just stared at the faint glow on the desk, the last piece of connection between us, until sleep finally pulled me under.
And even then, in the half-darkness of dreams, his voice lingered.
Soft. Broken. True.
You're not the only one who cares. I care too.