Max.
Why hasn't Lila texted me all days?
It's a strange kind of torture, waiting for her to reach out.
My first instinct is to send her a message—something casual, something to check in but I stopped myself.
Pushing her hasn't worked. Every time I try to step in, to be the one she leans on, it only seems to push her further away.
Last night, after the picture of her and Alex displayed at the café... I could see the fear in her eyes.
Fear that had nothing to do with me, but I made it worse by reacting like I always do: too intense, too much.
I grip my phone, debating, before shoving it back into my pocket.
If Lila wishes to speak, she will approach me.
That's what I continually remind myself, even though each moment of quiet seems like forever.
I occupy the remainder of the day by staying engaged. Or at the very least attempting to.
