When Hate Writes Back
Chapter 11 — Confused Hearts
By the time I slammed my laptop shut that night, my head was spinning. I couldn't tell if I was losing it or if the universe had gone completely rogue.
Every interaction with him at school — every sarcastic comment, every tiny gesture — mirrored what my pen pal had said just hours earlier. It wasn't just uncanny anymore. It was… unnerving.
I paced across my bedroom, fingers gripping the edge of my desk. Estelle's words from earlier that week echoed in my mind: "Watch closely. Pay attention."
My pen pal had said the same thing tonight, in response to my frantic venting:
"El, it's happening again, isn't it? The parallels. Pay attention. Look closely. The pieces are moving themselves into place."
I buried my face in my hands. Pieces? Moving into place? What does that even mean?
I typed furiously:
"It's driving me insane. Every day, he does something that… that echoes what you say. It's impossible. I don't even know how to feel anymore. Is it me? Am I imagining this?"
The reply came almost instantly, calm and precise as always:
"You're not imagining it. Patterns are there, even if you don't understand them yet. Keep watching. Pay attention to the small things. The world has a way of revealing secrets in its own time."
I stared at the screen, heart hammering. Secrets. Patterns. Small things. My pen pal's words felt like a lifeline — and a warning.
And yet, the boy at school — oblivious, infuriating, infuriatingly attractive — continued to exist in my life. My nemesis. My frustration. The echo of every message I had ever treasured.
I leaned back, letting out a long, shaky breath. "Oblivious," I whispered to the empty room. "Completely oblivious."
And still, a tiny, dangerous part of me wondered… what if my pen pal and my nemesis weren't separate people at all?
No. That was impossible.
I shut my laptop with a definitive click, though the thought lingered stubbornly. The thought of him, the words, the patterns — it was all too precise, too perfect.
The next day at school, I found myself watching him more closely than ever. Every gesture, every word, every smirk — I cataloged them in my mind like clues in a puzzle I wasn't sure I wanted solved.
Oblivious. Completely oblivious.
But the tension, the pull, the unspoken connection… it was growing. And I couldn't stop it.