The week had been moving strangely for Aria too slow in some moments, too fast in others but that morning felt different the second she stepped onto campus.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Just… off.
The air itself felt heavier, like something unseen had shifted overnight.
Aria walked through the front gates with her bag slung over one shoulder, her posture calm even though her thoughts were already racing. She scanned the courtyard out of habit, not consciously looking for anyone, not expecting anything in particular.
And yet she noticed immediately.
Liam wasn't there.
Normally, he would already be leaning against the railings near the science building, headphones resting around his neck, eyes half on his phone, half on the world around him. Sometimes he noticed her first. Sometimes she noticed him. Either way, there was always that quiet acknowledgment between them an unspoken I see you.
But today, the spot was empty.
Aria slowed her steps slightly, her brows drawing together before she caught herself.
Maybe he's late, she told herself.
Liam wasn't careless. He didn't disappear without reason. He showed up consistently, intentionally. That was part of what made his presence feel so solid, so grounding.
She adjusted her bag and continued inside.
The hallways were loud, as usual. Lockers slammed shut. Conversations overlapped. Someone laughed too loudly behind her. Aria moved through it all with practiced ease, but her eyes kept searching without permission.
Still no Liam.
By the time she reached her first class, a small knot had formed in her stomach.
She took her seat by the window, pulled out her notebook, and tried to focus. But every time the door opened, her attention snapped up automatically, half-expecting to see him slip in late with that apologetic look he wore when he knew he'd worried someone.
He never did.
The bell rang. The lecture began. Aria barely heard a word.
By second period, curiosity had turned into concern.
Liam still hadn't shown up.
She tapped her pen against her notebook, jaw tightening. He hadn't mentioned anything the day before no plans, no emergencies, nothing that hinted he'd be absent. And unlike Julian, who sometimes withdrew quietly when overwhelmed, Liam communicated. He explained. He didn't vanish.
Aria reached into her bag and pulled out her phone, hesitating only briefly before unlocking it.
I'm probably overthinking, she told herself.
She dialed his number.
Once.
Twice.
No answer.
She tried again, pressing the phone closer to her ear as if that might change the outcome.
Instead, a flat automated voice replied:
"The number you are trying to call is not available at the moment."
Aria lowered the phone slowly.
"That's… weird," she murmured.
Liam's phone was always on. Always.
She sent a text instead.
Aria: Hey. You're not in school today. Are you okay?
The message delivered.
No reply.
Her chest tightened.
At lunch, Aria sat alone again, pushing food around her tray without appetite. The cafeteria buzzed with noise, but she felt disconnected from it, like she was separated from the world by invisible glass.
She checked her phone.
Nothing.
She tried calling again.
This time, it didn't even ring.
Unreachable.
Aria leaned back in her chair, frustration blending with worry. Her fingers curled around her phone as a dozen thoughts collided in her head some rational, others dangerously spiraling.
What if he's sick?
What if something happened?
What if… he just doesn't want to talk to me anymore?
That last thought hit harder than she expected.
She exhaled sharply and shook her head.
"No," she whispered to herself. "He wouldn't."
Liam wasn't like that. He wouldn't disappear without explanation especially not after everything that had been building between them. After the quiet closeness. The intentional attention. The way he made her feel seen without demanding anything from her.
Across the cafeteria, Aria caught sight of Julian sitting with a few classmates. He was laughing at something someone said, but his eyes drifted around the room absentmindedly until they landed on her.
Their gazes locked.
For a brief moment, the noise faded.
Julian's smile faltered. His expression shifted subtly, like he sensed something was wrong even without knowing what it was. Like he almost stood up.
Aria looked away first.
She wasn't ready for that conversation. Not today. Not with her thoughts already unraveling.
The rest of the day dragged on painfully.
By the time classes ended, Aria felt restless and unsettled. She walked out slowly, scanning the crowd one more time, half-hoping Liam would appear at the last second breathless, apologetic, offering some explanation that would make everything make sense again.
But he didn't.
The sun dipped lower as students dispersed, laughter echoing around her, but Aria stood still for a moment, feeling completely out of place.
She dialed Liam again.
Nothing.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed another message.
Aria: Liam, please call me when you see this. I'm worried.
She stared at the screen long after sending it.
No reply.
That evening, Aria didn't go home like she'd told her parents she might not. Instead, she walked to a quiet café near campus, choosing a corner seat where she could think without interruption.
The soft hum of music filled the space, but it did nothing to calm her nerves.
She wrapped her hands around a warm mug she barely touched, checking her phone every few minutes like it might suddenly come alive.
Still nothing.
Her thoughts spiraled.
Liam had been acting normal just days ago attentive, present, intentional. He'd walked her to class, listened when she spoke, defended her when whispers surfaced. He'd made her feel understood in a way that scared her because it felt real.
And now silence.
The café door opened, letting in a rush of cool air. Aria looked up instinctively.
Not him.
She sank back into her seat, pressing her lips together.
Why does this bother me so much? she asked herself.
But deep down, she already knew the answer.
Because somewhere between heartbreak and healing, Liam had become important.
Later that night, Aria finally returned home. The house was quiet, lights dim. She slipped upstairs without making noise and collapsed onto her bed fully dressed, staring at the ceiling as her phone rested against her chest.
She called him one last time.
Straight to unreachable.
Aria turned onto her side, hugging a pillow tightly as a strange ache settled in her chest one she hadn't expected to feel so soon, or so deeply.
"Please be okay," she whispered into the quiet room.
Outside, the night stretched on heavy, unanswered.
And for the first time in days, Aria felt something sharper than confusion or guilt.
Fear.
Not of drama.
Not of heartbreak.
But of losing someone she hadn't even realized she was holding onto yet.