“ Maybe it’s all part of growth. 
The pain and disappointments. ”
---
— Joel —
“ Joel. ” The mere sound of my name on her lips sent a shudder down my spine, conjuring memories I wished I could forget. It wasn’t just the tone; it was the weight of the years behind it—years filled with manipulation, control, and her twisted sense of care. Her voice dripped with authority, the kind that made me feel like a child all over again, helpless and small.
I couldn’t look at her. Not today. Not after everything. “ Hi. ” The word came out like a sigh, an admission of guilt. I kept my eyes on the floor, unwilling to meet her gaze, afraid to see the disapproval that would mirror the disappointment I had grown up with. She wasn’t my mother, but standing there, looking at her, all I could think of was my mom.
My mom—the only person who had ever made me feel safe. Even in her absence, the memory of her was a comfort, a salve to the emotional wounds I kept hidden from everyone else. She was my little miss Snow White, always there to brush away my worries, always making sure everything was okay. But now… she was gone, and all that was left was this void, filled with the echoes of people who wanted to break me.
At nineteen, I was supposed to have moved past that, right? I should have learned how to face pain without letting it swallow me whole. I should have known that growth sometimes means learning to stand in the midst of disappointment and smile like you’re okay. But I wasn’t okay, and I wasn’t smiling.
“ Why did you do it, Joel? ” Her words tasted bitter, as though she was trying to feed me a truth I wasn’t ready to swallow.
“ Do what? ” I finally forced myself to look up, locking eyes with her, though my heart pounded in my chest. My palms felt clammy, fear snaking through me, but I stood firm.
She didn’t hesitate. “ Why did you starve yourself? Why did you push yourself to the brink? ” The question hung between us, heavy and oppressive, as if the air itself had turned against me.
I swallowed hard. She didn’t understand. How could she?
Her eyes narrowed, her voice sharpening like a blade. “ All for a girl, isn’t it? ”
The mention of Cecile sent a wave of nausea crashing over me. My chest tightened, and suddenly, breathing felt like an impossible task. Every thought of her—of Cecile, with her soft smiles and kind eyes—made me hurt in ways I couldn’t explain. I had probably hurt her too, and the weight of that realization was crushing me.
“ Joel. ” Her voice pulled me back, her touch foreign and unwanted. I flinched at the contact, my entire body recoiling.
“ Love isn’t for you. ” The words spilled from her lips, sharp and unrelenting, as though she believed that repetition would make them true. “ You know that. Remember what happened to your parents? And Jemmy? ” Her voice was cold, calculating. “ You’re unlovable, Joel. You’ve always been unlovable. Don’t reach for something more than what I can give you. You don’t deserve it. ”
Venom. That’s what her words felt like—poison seeping into my soul, trying to convince me of things I didn’t want to believe. Somewhere, deep down, I knew she was wrong. But there was truth in what she said, too. I had lost my parents. I had lost Jemmy. And that kind of loss leaves marks on you, scars that never truly heal.
I didn’t have the strength to fight her today.
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— Cecile —
I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as Paloma Faith’s “ Only Love Can Hurt Like This ” poured through my headphones. The lyrics cut deep, resonating with everything I had been too scared to admit out loud. The pain of loving someone who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—love me back was more than I had ever expected to bear.
I thought back to the day I first met Joel. There had been this instant pull, an attraction that I couldn’t explain. His smile had been the first thing to captivate me, a small, hesitant curve of his lips that seemed to hide more than it revealed. Then there was his strength—physical, yes, but emotional too. Or at least, I thought so at the time. I had convinced myself that underneath his guarded exterior was someone who could care for me the way I cared for him.
But I was wrong.
It wasn’t that Joel didn’t care about me. He did, in his own way. Stella had said it more times than I could count. “ Joel cares about you, Cecile. You know he does. ” And I did know. But I needed more. I wanted more.
I wanted his love, not just his concern. I wanted him to look at me the way I looked at him—with hope, with longing, with something more than just friendship. But he never did, and that unspoken truth lodged itself in my chest like a shard of glass.
I grabbed my notebook, the weight of unshed tears pressing at the back of my throat, and began to write.
ECHOES OF THE SEA
The cold hit me first, 
biting at my skin as I stepped into the water. 
It wasn’t an unpleasant cold, though. It was the kind that wakes you up, that forces you to feel everything at once—the sting, the thrill, the excitement of the unknown. 
I eased my other foot in, and soon enough, the strangeness faded. 
There was a familiarity to it, as if I had always belonged here, surrounded by the vastness of the ocean.
I moved forward, slowly at first, testing the waters. 
But soon, I found myself gliding, 
as though the sea itself was carrying me along. 
It was beautiful, 
this feeling of weightlessness, 
of surrendering to something 
greater than myself.
I couldn’t help but think about Joel
as I floated along the current.
He was like the ocean—deep, mysterious, and untouchable.
No matter how much I reached for him, he always seemed just out of grasp.
Before I realized it, 
I was sinking.
The weight of unanswered texts, missed calls, and silence from him pulled me under, and I was drowning. I hadn’t even noticed how far I had ventured into this emotional sea, 
how unprepared I was for the inevitable pain that came with loving someone who didn’t love you back.
I screamed for help, but no one came. Joel had taught me to believe in myself, to see my worth, but he hadn’t taught me how to protect my heart from falling apart.
“ I love you, Joel, ” I whispered into the night, my words dissolving into the darkness. I wished, more than anything, that he could hear me.
And maybe… just maybe… he could love me back.
Tears blurred my vision as I wrote the last words. It was going to be a long, lonely night. “ I wish you were here, Celine, ” I whispered to the stars, the ache in my chest growing unbearable.
It sucked. It really did.
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A/N: What do you think, guys?