Chapter 5: Lost in Translation
The silence in the room was deafening. Nethan sat on the edge of his bed, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. He had spent the entire day refreshing Eiña's social media, hoping to see a message, a post, anything that might signal that she was okay, that she was thinking about him.
But there was nothing.
He had tried calling her, texting her, even sending a voice note, but his messages had been met with an unsettling silence. He felt a strange mix of anger and frustration, mixed with a heavy dose of insecurity.
He knew he had overreacted yesterday. He had been hurt, yes, but he had also been unfair to Eiña. He had accused her of being nosy, of meddling in his life, when the truth was, he was just afraid.
He was afraid of letting someone in, afraid of letting himself get close to her, afraid of revealing his true identity.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He hated this feeling of helplessness, of being at the mercy of her silence. He wanted to talk to her, to apologize, to explain himself. He wanted to tell her how much he cared, how much she meant to him.
He was ready to be vulnerable, ready to take a chance.
But here she was, making distance, pushing him away when he was finally ready to open up. It was as if they were speaking different languages, lost in translation.
He knew he couldn't sit around and wait for her to reach out. He had to do something. He had to find her, to talk to her, to fix this mess.
He reached for his phone again, about to call Hambert, but then he stopped. He couldn't involve Hambert in this mess. It was between him and Eiña.
He decided to try texting her one last time. He typed, then deleted, then typed again:
Nethan: Eiña, please. I'm sorry. I know I overreacted yesterday.
He hit send and waited.
He watched the little clock icon spin, a symbol of the agonizing silence that stretched between them.
Minutes passed. No response.
He tried again:
Nethan: I just... I need to talk to you. I'm not good at this whole "communication" thing, but I really want to fix this.
He hit send and sank back into his chair.
He felt a familiar ache in his chest, a mix of anger and sadness. He needed to see her, to hear her voice, to feel that spark of connection that had been so strong yesterday.
He couldn't stand this silence, this uncertainty, this feeling of being lost in translation.
Meanwhile, Eiña was struggling with her own turmoil. She was sitting at her desk, her laptop open but her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure what to type. She felt a strange mix of guilt, confusion, and a sense of lost control.
She had been so nosy, so persistent, so overzealous. She had pried into his life, pushing him away with her relentless curiosity. She had seen the anger in his eyes, heard the hurt in his voice.
She wanted to apologize, to explain herself, to tell him that she didn't mean to hurt him, but she couldn't find the words. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but she couldn't bring herself to type.
She felt a knot tightening in her stomach. She had never been so unsure of herself, so out of control. And now, she was starting to realize how much she valued his connection, how much she wanted to be close to him, even if it was all just banter surprisingly.
But she was afraid. Afraid that she had ruined everything, afraid that she had lost him.
She knew she had to do something, to say something, to reach out, but she was paralyzed by fear.
Eiña stared at her phone, the screen reflecting the glow of the setting sun. The silence was suffocating, a tangible weight pressing down on her chest. She hadn't heard from Nethan all day, not a text, not a call, nothing. And now, the guilt was starting to eat away at her, leaving her feeling small and insignificant.
"I was so nosy," she whispered to the empty room, her voice barely audible. "So clueless. I just wanted to know him, to understand him, but I pushed him away."
She recalled the anger in his eyes, the hurt in his voice. It had been so sudden, so unexpected, and now she was left with the hollow ache of regret.
"I'm not used to this," she murmured, tracing a pattern on the table with her finger. "I'm used to being the one who makes the first move, the one who chases after what I want. But with him, I'm so scared. Scared of losing him, scared of messing things up."
She knew she needed to talk to him, to apologize, to explain herself. But the fear was holding her back, a cold, heavy weight that threatened to crush her.
"What if he's really angry?" she whispered, a wave of panic washing over her. "What if he never wants to see me again? What if I've ruined everything?"
She knew she couldn't keep avoiding him forever. She had to do something, to say something, but she was paralyzed by fear. The silence between them stretched on, a painful reminder of the gap that had opened up, a gaping hole in their connection.
Meanwhile, Nethan was pacing his room, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. His frustration was reaching a fever pitch. He had tried everything, calling, texting, leaving a voice note, but Eiña was completely silent.
He was starting to feel desperate. He needed to talk to her, to clear the air.
Just then, Hambert walked in, his face bright with optimism.
"Hey, dude, what's up?" Hambert asked, his voice cheerfully. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Nethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not exactly," he said, his voice heavy. "It's Eiña. We had this... argument yesterday, and now she's not talking to me."
"An argument?" Hambert's eyebrows shot up. "What happened?"
"I… I overreacted," Nethan admitted, his voice laced with guilt. "She was trying to be friendly, but I got all defensive. I just… I don't know. It’s like we're speaking different languages."
Hambert, ever the peacemaker, tried to calm Nethan down. "Hey, it happens, man. Everyone gets into fights sometimes. Just talk to her. Apologize, explain yourself. She'll understand."
Nethan shook his head, his frustration growing. "It's not that easy, Hambert. It's… it's complicated."
"What do you mean?" Hambert asked, his voice confused.
"It's just… it's more than a simple argument," Nethan said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's… I think I'm falling for her, but I'm also afraid of what it means. And I don't even know how to tell her that."
Hambert, ever the clueless best friend, simply shrugged. "So, talk to her. Tell her how you feel. What's the worst that could happen?"
Nethan sighed, knowing that Hambert was right. He needed to talk to Eiña, to face his feelings, to confront his fears.
He just needed to figure out how.
