TRISTAN POV
"You shouldn't apologize." She replied coolly, my voice tinged with frustration. "There's no issue here, alright! So stop questioning if I'm okay and what's wrong with me when everything is fine! Instead of asking me, why don't you ask yourself and reflect on why you're doing this?"
I couldn't contain the growing frustration bubbling within me, ready to spill over. Why was she reacting like this? I racked my brain, trying to recall if I had said or done anything offensive, but I couldn't think of anything. Was it about what I joked about earlier? But it was harmless. What could have triggered her to be so angry with me?
"Sam, if there's no issue here, why are you acting like this and raising your voice at me when I haven't done anything wrong?" I pleaded, my voice tinged with confusion and hurt. "How can I reflect on myself and analyze my behavior towards you when all I've done is show how sincere my feelings for you are? I care about you, Sam, and I'm falling for you. Can't you see that?"
"Just tell me, Tristan, do you love me?" she demanded, her tone sharp and accusatory. "Is it really that simple to say 'I love you'? Just confess, Tristan, so we can move on. Just tell me what you truly desire from me so I can respond–"
"Haven't you heard what I said?" I interrupted, my voice rising with frustration. "I like you, that's why I'm here. I want to know if my feelings for you are mutual, that's why I'm reaching out. I want you, Sam, not because of what happened between us that night. I want you back because I love you, and it's really painful for me that I'm putting in so much effort for you, but here you are, hurting me."
"I'm asking you what's bothering you so we can discuss it because I don't want you to harbor any resentment," I pleaded, my frustration bubbling up. "But here you are, deliberately avoiding me. Why, Sam? Is something lacking? Is there something about me that you can't tell what the problem is, why you're not talking to me or acknowledging me earlier? Sam, please speak up!"
I could feel the desperation creeping into my voice as I spoke, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me like a heavy burden. It hurt to make efforts to get her attention, yet not knowing if I should continue if I couldn't hear from her whether she appreciated the efforts I was making.
The silence in the elevator was oppressive, stretching on uncomfortably as I waited for her response. Each passing second felt like an eternity, my heart pounding in my chest with the fear of what her answer might be.
Until finally, thankfully, the elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open with a soft chime. We stepped out into the hallway, still locked in a tense standoff, neither of us willing to break the silence that hung heavy between us.
"Maybe everything I've done is still not enough," I said, but all I heard was Sam sigh heavily, her not looking at me like a dagger in my heart. "Maybe I still need more time or moments to convince you that my intentions for you are pure." Was it possible that despite my best efforts, I still hadn't managed to break through the walls she had erected around her heart?
"I'm leaving," I said, my voice filled with frustration and acceptance. I hope you'll have a happy day without me in your freaking life. Goodbye, Sam."
I turned and walked away, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the hallway. I resisted the urge to look back, knowing it would only make it harder. But as I walked, a part of me couldn't shake the sadness of not meeting her expectations.
"Idiot," I scolded myself silently as I headed towards the exit. "Are you giving up just because she doesn't want you? Are you quitting even though she's not interested? You said you'd do anything for her."
The words echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of the promises I had made to myself and to Sam. I had vowed to go to any lengths to win her over, to show her my true feelings. And yet, here I was, walking away in defeat, overwhelmed by her silence and lack of interest.
But even as doubt and self-blame ate at me, a small voice whispered, urging me not to give up. "It's not over," it insisted, a spark of determination rising. "You can still fight for her, Tristan. You can prove you're worthy of her love."
I stopped, feeling the weight of that realization. It wasn't too late. There was still time to make things right, to show Sam I was willing to fight for her, despite the challenges.