Reluctant Hearts

Chapter 9

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Another week, another Wednesday. The day unfolded into a whirlwind of chaos from the very moment I reluctantly pried open my tired eyes. The sun itself seemed to be in its own slumber when I begrudgingly began the new day. My schedule was packed, an unyielding parade of obligations that spanned from dawn till dusk.

The day commenced with a long day of volunteering, the only time I could fit in my schedule to get the hours I needed to graduate. Followed by classes, where my professors, indifferent and monotone, regurgitated information directly read off from the slides of the PowerPoint presentation. There was a palpable sense of futility attending these classes, but of course, attendance remained an mandatory.

Although the day felt dragged on, the only thing getting me through was knowing I could sneak in a nap before having to meet up with Harry. Though a last-minute appeal from my manager pierced the fragile bubble of my precious free time, pleading with me to assist with the unexpected rush of customers. Despite the fatigue already seeping into my bones, I, ever the people pleaser, agreed to come in and lend a hand. Even when not officially on the schedule for the day, I found myself willingly entangled in the demanding environment of serving customers with the fakest smile I could muster.

I had undeniably bitten off more than I could chew throughout the day, the weight of responsibilities pressing down on me with an unrelenting force. By the time the clock struck seven in the evening, I found myself scrambling out of work. The weariness within me was unmistakable, my body crying out for rest, an exhaustion that seemed to echo in every step I took.

Despite the internal plea for respite, I pushed aside the persistent fatigue and forged ahead. My worn-out feet rushed to the library. The evening air, cool and crisp, did little to alleviate the fatigue that had settled within me.

As I approached Harry in the library, I found myself subconsciously bracing for a familiar clash, the residue of our past encounters still lingering in the air. My stomach churned with a peculiar blend of nerves and anticipation.

The dynamic between us had recently shifted, evolving from the constant ambushes and guarded conversations into more civil engagements, leaving me teetering on the edge of curiosity and apprehension. It was as if the delicate balance we had struck could tip in either direction, and my stomach somersaulted in response to this uncharted territory of our relationship.

"Sorry, sorry" I exhaled as I found my way to Harry at our usual spot. I dropped my backpack with a thud, grabbing his attention.

With a fluid motion, he removed one headphone earpiece, a gesture that immediately captured my attention. Turning his gaze towards me, he looked me up and down before delivering a blunt assessment that echoed through the quiet library. "You look like shit," he stated matter-of-factly, his expression unapologetically candid. A stark contrast to the usual banter or guarded exchanges we shared. With a deliberate action, he fully removed his headphones, unplugging them.

Caught off guard by the raw honesty of his words, I found myself momentarily stunned, my gaze locked onto his face as if seeking an explanation for this unexpected departure from our norm. His eyes, however, betrayed no ill intent; instead, they held a genuine curiosity, an unspoken acknowledgment of the obvious. It was an observation devoid of malice, a stark departure from our typical interactions.

Summoning a response, I managed a blank acknowledgement, "Thanks, I feel like it too." The weight of exhaustion seemed to intensify as I lowered myself into the chair, legs protesting against the strain of the day. His raised eyebrows hinted at an unspoken question, an inquiry he chose not to vocalize, but I ignored it.