Layla sat cross-legged on her bed, her laptop open in front of her. She was supposed to be working on her scholarship application essay, but the words on the screen felt empty. The essay prompt—Describe a moment that shaped your life—mocked her. Her mind kept drifting, wandering into the dark corners she tried so hard to avoid.
The vibration of her phone broke her focus. She glanced at the screen and froze.
Dad calling.
Her chest tightened. It had been weeks since their last conversation, and even then, it had been short, awkward, and full of forced politeness. She debated letting it ring out, but something compelled her to swipe and answer.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Layla." His voice was cautious, tentative. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," she replied curtly, her tone sharp enough to cut.
There was a pause, the kind that stretched uncomfortably long. Then he sighed. "I know it's been a while. I wanted to check in."
"Okay."
"Layla…" His voice softened, and she immediately braced herself. "I know you're upset with me. About everything. And you have every right to be. But I just wanted to say—I hope one day you'll understand."
"Understand what?" she snapped, sitting up straighter. "That you and Mom decided to split and didn't think about how it would affect me?"
"It's not like that, Layla," he said, his tone pleading. "Your mom and I… we came to this decision together. It wasn't easy for either of us. But staying together wasn't working anymore."
"It wasn't working for you two," Layla shot back, her voice trembling. "But did you ever think about me? Did you ever consider how I'd feel? Or was it just about what made things easier for you both?"
"Of course we thought about you," he said quickly. "But Layla, sometimes a decision like this—"
"Don't," she interrupted, her voice rising. "Don't make excuses. You both walked away from a life we had, and I'm the one who has to deal with it."
"Layla, I know this has been hard on you," he said gently. "But your mom and I… we weren't happy. We didn't want to fight all the time and make things worse for you."
Layla laughed bitterly, tears stinging her eyes. "So you just gave up? You broke everything apart, and now you expect me to understand and just move on?"
Her dad sighed again, a sound she hated. "Layla, I didn't want this to hurt you. But I want you to know that I'm still here for you. Always."
"Yeah? Well, it doesn't feel like it," she said flatly. "You left. And now you want to act like everything's fine. It's not fine."
"I didn't leave you, Layla," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "I left a situation that wasn't healthy. That doesn't mean I love you any less."
"Could've fooled me," she muttered.
"Layla, please," he said. "I miss you. I miss talking to you. I don't want this wall between us."
Layla's throat tightened, and she blinked back tears. "Well, maybe you should've thought about that before."
"Layla…"
"No," she said, her voice shaking. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to act like you care when you both decided I wasn't worth fighting for."
The silence on the other end was deafening.
"I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never wanted to hurt you. I hope you know that."
"Well, you did," she said flatly. "Congratulations."
She ended the call before he could say anything else, her hands trembling as she tossed the phone onto the bed. The tears she'd been holding back spilled over, hot and angry, and she buried her face in her hands.
The walls she'd built so carefully, the ones that kept her safe, felt like they were crumbling. She hated crying—hated feeling this raw, this exposed. But the pain was too much to hold in.
She curled up on her bed, clutching a pillow to her chest as the sobs wracked her body. The house was quiet, and for once, she wished Annie were there. But Annie was with her family, probably laughing over leftovers or watching movies, oblivious to the storm brewing in Layla's chest.
The truth was, she didn't know how to process this kind of hurt. She didn't know how to forgive, how to let go. All she knew was that she felt abandoned, betrayed by the two people who were supposed to protect her.
Her phone buzzed on the bed, and she glanced at the screen, half-hoping it was Annie. But it wasn't. It was a text from Aaron.
Aaron: "Check out this meme, it reminded me of you."
Attached was a picture of a cat in a leather jacket, sunglasses perched dramatically on its face. Layla let out a shaky laugh despite herself, her tears momentarily forgotten.
Layla: "You calling me a cat?"
Aaron: "Maybe. Fierce, independent, hates being told what to do… Sounds familiar."
She rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Layla: "Thanks, I guess."
The lighthearted exchange didn't erase the ache in her chest, but it helped—just a little. And for now, a little was enough.
After setting her phone aside, she let her mind wander back to Aaron. He had a way of breaking through her walls without even trying, slipping into moments she would've otherwise spent alone in her pain. She hated how much she appreciated it, how much she appreciated him.
But that was the problem. He wasn't supposed to mean anything, not more than the casual arrangement they had. Yet here he was, sending cat memes and making her laugh when she thought she couldn't. It was dangerous, this pull she felt toward him. It made her feel too exposed, too vulnerable.
Her thoughts drifted to the night he'd shown up with his car and bailed her and Jace out. He hadn't asked for details or explanations, just stepped in and handled things with a calm confidence she couldn't forget. There was something steady about him, something she both envied and resented. How could someone have their life so seemingly together when hers felt like it was constantly falling apart?
She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. Tomorrow was another day, and she couldn't afford to dwell on her father or Aaron or anything else that threatened to unravel her.
As she pulled the covers up and settled into bed, her phone buzzed again. Another text from Aaron.
Aaron: "Goodnight, Layla. Hope you're okay."
She stared at the message, her heart twisting in ways she didn't fully understand. Finally, she typed back.
Layla: "Goodnight. Thanks for checking in."
It wasn't much, but it was enough.
For now.