Tangled Strings

Chapter 15: The Breaking Point

It was the end of another long day at school. The air was thick with the energy of students rushing out to catch their buses or head to their after-school activities. The usual clamor of voices filled the hallways, but for Chiquita, the noise felt distant, like she was floating in an entirely different world—one that was cold and empty, despite the chaos around her.

Chiquita stood by her locker, her fingers mindlessly spinning the lock. She wasn’t sure why she was here, why she felt compelled to linger, but she couldn't bring herself to leave just yet. Maybe it was because she knew Ahyeon would pass by this hallway in a few minutes. Maybe she was hoping—foolishly—that this time things would be different.

She forced herself to breathe deeply, shaking her head. No, she couldn’t keep doing this.

Ahyeon had been cold. More cold than usual, in fact. Every time Chiquita thought she could sense something—anything—beneath the frosty surface, she was proven wrong. Ahyeon had pushed her away again and again. The same indifference. The same cruelty, only wrapped up in the guise of apathy. Chiquita had endured it for far too long, and this time, she wasn’t sure if she had it in her to keep going.

Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, memories, and what-ifs that refused to quiet down. She replayed their encounters over the past few weeks, each one more painful than the last. The briefest exchanges that held nothing of the warmth she had so desperately clung to before. The moments where Ahyeon had barely acknowledged her, her eyes flicking over her as if she were just another passing face in the crowd.

Chiquita’s heart had grown numb to it. At least, she thought it had. But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, the pain still lurked underneath the surface, just waiting to pierce through whenever Ahyeon’s name was mentioned or when she saw the vice president in the halls, laughing with someone else.

She shut her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to stop thinking about it. To stop thinking about Ahyeon. But it was impossible. Ahyeon was everywhere. She had become the center of Chiquita’s world, even if she hadn’t meant to.

"Hey," Asa's voice interrupted her thoughts, snapping her back to reality. "You okay?"

Chiquita opened her eyes and saw Asa standing by her side, her brow furrowed with concern. Her friend was always there, always looking out for her, but Chiquita wasn’t sure how to explain any of this to her. It wasn’t something Asa could fix with a few kind words or a hug.

"I’m fine," Chiquita said, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Asa didn’t seem convinced. She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "You’ve been saying that a lot, but I know you, Chiquita. You’re not fine."

Chiquita sighed, running a hand through her hair. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up, this charade of being okay when inside, it felt like everything was crumbling. "It’s nothing," she muttered. "I’m just... tired. Tired of pretending."

Asa’s eyes softened, but she didn’t push further. "You deserve better, you know."

Chiquita met her gaze for a moment, then looked away, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Better. She didn’t know what that even looked like anymore.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, and for a brief second, Chiquita’s breath hitched. It was her. Ahyeon.

She didn’t look at Chiquita. She didn’t even glance in her direction as she walked past, her long strides purposeful, her focus entirely on the conversation she was having with Pharita.

Chiquita’s chest tightened.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to quell the familiar sting that pulsed in her heart. She wasn’t going to let it affect her anymore. Not this time. Not after everything. She wasn’t going to let Ahyeon see how much she hurt her. Not anymore.

"Chiquita," Asa said softly, her voice filled with concern. "I know it’s hard, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself."

"I know," Chiquita whispered, her throat tight. "I know."

But even as she spoke the words, she wasn’t sure if she meant them. The truth was, she had no idea how to let go. How to walk away from someone she had wanted so desperately. Someone who, despite her rejection, had once made Chiquita believe that maybe—just maybe—there was something more.

But now? Now it was clear that there would never be more. There would never be anything beyond the icy wall Ahyeon had built between them. Chiquita had pushed, tried, and fought for so long, but no matter what she did, she was always met with the same cold dismissal.

It wasn’t even that Ahyeon was cruel. It was worse. She was indifferent. She didn’t care. And that hurt more than any harsh word could have.

"I’m done," Chiquita whispered, more to herself than to Asa. "I can’t do this anymore."

Asa looked at her with a mixture of sadness and understanding, her lips pressing together in a thin line. She didn’t say anything, but Chiquita could see the weight of her words in her friend’s eyes.

It wasn’t just about Ahyeon anymore. It was about Chiquita, about her self-worth. She couldn’t keep throwing herself into someone who wouldn’t even give her the time of day. She was better than that. She deserved someone who saw her, who valued her. Someone who wasn’t playing games with her emotions.

As if on cue, Chiquita’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, her eyes narrowing at the message that appeared on the screen.

Ahyeon: "You need to stop following me around."

The words were blunt, cold, cutting through the air with surgical precision. They stung more than Chiquita wanted to admit, but in a way, it was almost a relief. This was the confirmation she needed. The final confirmation. She had been fooling herself all this time, hoping for something that would never come.

She let out a shaky breath and turned to Asa. "It’s time."

Asa’s face softened in understanding, but she said nothing. She only gave Chiquita a brief, comforting squeeze of her shoulder before stepping back to give her some space.

Chiquita turned and started walking toward the courtyard, her feet moving almost mechanically, her mind still swirling with the weight of the rejection she’d just received. As she passed through the doors and into the open air, she spotted Ahyeon, standing with her friends, her laughter ringing through the courtyard. She was carefree. Untouched. Unaware of the damage she’d done.

But Chiquita wasn’t going to waste another second on her. Not anymore.

She walked toward the group, her movements slow but deliberate. When she reached Ahyeon, she paused. For a brief moment, the world seemed to stop.

Ahyeon looked up from her conversation, her expression unreadable. Chiquita met her gaze, her heart pounding in her chest, but this time, there was no pleading in her eyes. No desperation. No need for approval.

She smiled—a small, soft smile that wasn’t meant for Ahyeon. It was for herself. A quiet declaration of independence. A sign that she was finally letting go.

“Goodbye, Ahyeon,” Chiquita said, her voice steady.

Ahyeon blinked in surprise, her brows furrowing slightly. But Chiquita didn’t wait for a response. She turned on her heel and walked away, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the air. The world resumed its motion, but for Chiquita, time seemed to stand still.

She had said her goodbye.

And for the first time in a long time, Chiquita felt a sense of freedom—a strange, bittersweet relief. It was over.

She had finally let go.