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Chapter Five:
The coldness didn't come like a storm—it came like a slow, creeping fog.
It began with subtle changes. Little things.
Ben stopped texting her good morning like he used to. Their phone calls grew shorter. Sometimes he wouldn't call at all. When she asked if he was okay, he would say, "Just tired," or, "This semester is crazy."
And because she loved him, she believed him.
Because she trusted him, she ignored the way he pulled away when she tried to hold his hand in public. She brushed off the way he became distracted during their conversations, how his eyes would flick to his phone and stay there.
She told herself it was temporary—just a phase. Love had its rough patches too, didn't it?
But deep down, her spirit began to whisper what her heart refused to hear: Something is changing.
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One evening, after their lectures, Celine waited for Ben under the mango tree—their spot. She had brought him a small gift: a book he once mentioned wanting to read. She clutched it nervously in her hands, excited to see the smile on his face.
He was over an hour late.
When he finally arrived, he didn't apologize. He just said, "You should've told me you were waiting. I had a group meeting."
"With Ivy again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
"Yeah," he replied, eyes on his phone. "She's... organized. Keeps the group moving."
That word again—Ivy.
The name had started to echo in her mind like a song she didn't ask for. She hated how familiar it was becoming in his mouth.
Still, she forced a smile, handed him the book, and watched him thank her without really looking at it.
Her chest ached in silence.
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Then came the evening that broke her.
It was a Saturday—bright, clear, ordinary. She had gone to the campus mini-mart to buy groceries when she saw them.
There, near the campus car park, Ben and Ivy stood together beside her car. Ivy laughed, tossing her braids over her shoulder, her hand resting lightly on Ben's chest. He said something that made her laugh harder, and she leaned closer, like she belonged there—like she had always belonged.
Celine froze.
She wasn't close enough to hear them, but she didn't need words.
It was the way he looked at Ivy.
The way Ivy looked back.
The way their bodies leaned toward each other—not awkward or shy—but like a dance they'd practiced in secret.
Her heart clenched.
She felt dizzy.
She walked past quickly, praying they wouldn't see her, tears already building behind her eyes. Her arms felt heavy. Her legs moved on autopilot. The groceries slipped from her fingers the moment she entered her hostel room.
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She didn't cry at first.
She just sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall.
She kept thinking, Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I'm overreacting.
But when her roommate came in and gently said, "Celine… are you okay?"—the dam broke.
The tears came fast. Violent. Endless.
She wept into her pillow, her body trembling from the weight of everything crashing down. It wasn't just sadness—it was humiliation. Shame. Confusion. Betrayal.
How could he do this? After everything?
She had given him her whole heart. Her trust. Her body. Her soul. She had let herself fall completely, believing he would catch her.
But now… she was shattered.
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For days, Celine barely left her room.
She didn't eat. Didn't bathe. Her friends took turns trying to cheer her up, but nothing worked. Her eyes were red and swollen, her voice hoarse from crying. The pain lived inside her bones.
She scrolled through old pictures on her phone—memories of laughter, hugs, forehead kisses. Ben smiling at her like she was his world. Her resting her head on his chest, believing he'd always protect her.
All of it felt like a cruel joke now.
Was it ever real?
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Then, on a Tuesday evening, her phone rang.
Ben.
She stared at the screen. Her heart raced. Her hands trembled.
She didn't want to answer—but she needed to hear his voice. Needed him to explain. To fix this. To say it was all a mistake.
"Hello," she whispered.
"Hey babe," his voice came, casual, calm. "Haven't heard from you. You good?"
She wanted to scream. Cry. Throw the phone. But instead, she stayed quiet for a long time.
Finally, she asked, "Ben… are you with Ivy?"
There was a pause.
Then, "She's just a friend. You're reading too much into things."
"Don't lie to me," Celine said, her voice trembling. "I saw you. You were touching her like she was yours."
Silence again.
Then a sigh. "Celine, don't make this a thing. People grow. Things change. Maybe we've changed."
Her throat tightened. "Changed? After everything? After what we shared?"
"I don't know what you want me to say," he mumbled. "I didn't plan this. It just… happened."
And just like that, it was done.
No apology. No fight. No trying to make it right.
Ben had already moved on.
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Celine sat there long after the call ended, the silence around her deafening. She felt hollow, like someone had carved out her heart and left the shell behind.
She cried again—but it was different this time.
This wasn't the cry of someone hoping to fix things.
It was the cry of someone finally accepting the truth.
Ben wasn't coming back.
And the boy she once saw as her forever had become a stranger with familiar eyes.
---
That night, she stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself—really looked.
Her face was puffy. Her eyes swollen. Her heart bruised beyond belief.
But deep beneath the pain, a voice whispered:
This will not be the end of you.
She didn't believe it yet.
But someday, she would.
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