Lily sighed as she rummaged through her locker, panic creeping in when she couldn't find her notebook. It wasn't just any notebook—it contained all her notes for the upcoming quiz. She groaned, realizing she must have left it at home in her morning rush.
"I'll just have to go back and get it," she muttered, grabbing her bag and heading out of the school gates.
The streets were quiet as she made her way back, her thoughts drifting to Liam. She hadn't spoken to him properly since his outburst, and his coldness at school made it harder for her to figure out how to approach him.
On her way back to school, notebook in hand, she spotted a familiar figure walking in the opposite direction. Her steps faltered.
"Liam?" she whispered, confusion washing over her.
Liam was walking home. His usual pristine uniform was slightly ruffled, his tie loosened. He had his earphones in and didn't notice her presence. What caught her attention most, though, was the small paper bag in his hand.
As she got closer, she saw him pull out a chocolate bar—her favorite chocolate—and begin eating it absentmindedly. Her heart skipped a beat.
Does this mean…?
For a brief moment, hope blossomed in her chest. Maybe Liam wasn't as far gone as she thought. Maybe he still cared, even if he was distant.
But then she noticed his expression. His eyes were blank, his face devoid of emotion as he stared at an open notebook in his other hand, reading while walking. He didn't seem to be enjoying the chocolate at all—he ate it mechanically, like it was just a means to fill his stomach.
Her hope shattered, replaced by confusion.
Liam hates sweets. He never eats them unless I force him to. So why is he eating them now?
Lily watched him disappear around the corner, her thoughts swirling with questions.
Liam sat at a corner table in the convenience store, finishing the last bite of his sandwich. His stomach, which had been gnawing at him all morning, finally felt satisfied.
As he stood up to leave, his eyes wandered to the shelves by the checkout counter. His gaze fell on a familiar sight—a box of Lily's favorite chocolates. His hand moved before he could think, grabbing a small bag and tossing it onto the counter with his payment.
Outside, he stared at the bag in his hand. For a moment, he felt conflicted.
Why did I buy this?
He knew the answer but refused to acknowledge it. The chocolates reminded him of her. Of the way her face lit up whenever he reluctantly accepted one, the way she teased him for not liking sweets, and the way she always insisted he try just one more.
Liam shook his head, brushing the thoughts away.
Back at school, the library was packed, and he had no interest in sitting through the free period in a noisy classroom. The teacher for the final lesson had already announced their absence, so Liam made a rare decision: he left early.
As he walked home, his earphones muffling the world around him, he pulled out one of the chocolates and unwrapped it. Placing it in his mouth, he let the sweet taste linger.
It wasn't the flavor he craved—it was the memory it evoked. For just a moment, he could pretend Lily was there, scolding him for eating it wrong or smiling triumphantly because he hadn't spat it out.
But when he looked down at the notebook in his hand, the illusion faded. His heart clenched, but his face remained as blank as ever.
She doesn't need me anymore. I need to keep it that way.
Liam stepped into the empty house, the stillness a stark contrast to the noise of his thoughts. He placed the chocolates on the dining table and grabbed a piece of paper, scribbling a quick note:
Enjoy these. From Avery.
He set the note beside the chocolates and stood there for a moment, staring at the arrangement. His fingers brushed the edge of the bag before pulling back.
"She'll probably ask Avery about this," he murmured to himself. "I'll tell Avery not to deny it. She'll agree if Lily asks."
Unbeknownst to him, Lily had entered the house moments earlier, her footsteps quiet as she lingered by the doorway. She froze, hearing his words.
Her heart twisted.
Why won't he just say it's from him?
Liam, oblivious to her presence, straightened up and headed upstairs. His footsteps were measured, his movements deliberate.
In his room, he opened his desk drawer and pulled out the small, framed photo of him and Lily from their childhood. They were laughing in the picture, their faces bright with joy.
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. But it was fleeting, quickly replaced by the cold detachment he'd forced himself to adopt. He placed the photo in the drawer, locked it, and set the key aside.
"It's better this way," he whispered, his voice devoid of emotion.
Lily, still standing by the front door, felt tears well up in her eyes. She clutched the strap of her bag tightly, torn between anger and sadness.
As the house fell silent once more, Lily approached the table and picked up the bag of chocolates. Her fingers traced the words on the note. She knew Avery hadn't bought these—she didn't even like this brand.
Holding the bag close, Lily whispered to herself, "I don't care how much you push me away, Liam. I know you still care. And I'm not giving up on you."
She turned toward the stairs, her resolve hardening. She wouldn't let his coldness define their relationship. Not yet.