Chapter 4: The Weight of the Past

3.

Caleb was stunned.

His mouth opened, then snapped shut. The bravado faded, replaced by real regret. He reached up to rub his neck, a habit I recognized from when we were kids and he was nervous.

That hearing aid had been his gift to me on his seventeenth birthday.

He’d saved all summer for it, working double shifts at the car wash and the local pizza joint. I remembered catching him counting tips late at night under the porch light, face smeared with grease and pride.

The Preston family never spoiled their kids. Caleb didn’t get much allowance. He bought that hearing aid after two months of summer work, spending all his savings on it.

It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. The memory was still so vivid, it almost hurt to look at him now.

Back then, seventeen-year-old Caleb had quietly put the hearing aid on me while I slept.

He’d snuck into my room—tiptoeing so he wouldn’t wake my parents. When I woke up and saw the device, confusion turned to shock and then to joy. I burst into tears before I could even say thank you.

When I woke up and cried with joy, he panicked and tried to comfort me.

He’d stammered and blushed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Don’t cry, Lils. It’s just a thing. I—I just want you to hear everything. Like birds, and my voice, and… you know."

Caleb used to treat me so well that Aunt Karen would often say she wanted me as her daughter-in-law. Caleb would grin and boast:

"Of course! I’ve been raising my wife for so many years—did you think I was raising her for someone else?"

He’d say it in front of everyone, voice full of teasing bravado. The grown-ups would laugh, and I’d hide my blushing face behind a mug of cocoa.

Everyone thought we’d go to college together, fall in love, and get married.

That was the fairy tale everyone in the neighborhood believed. We were the couple people rooted for at block parties and summer cookouts. Even the old men playing chess at the park would wink at us.

Caleb grew up next door with Grandpa Joe. He woke me up every morning and carried my backpack.

Every morning, I’d hear him pounding on my door, yelling, "Lils! Let’s go or we’ll miss the bus!" He’d always snatch my bag and balance it on his own skinny shoulder, grinning the whole way.

He confessed to me, and I blushed and agreed.

He’d picked a spot under the oak tree in my backyard, voice shaking but eyes steady. My cheeks burned, but I couldn’t stop smiling. It felt like the whole world held its breath for us.

But everything changed when Aubrey showed up.

Her arrival was a storm—loud, bright, impossible to ignore. Suddenly, I was background noise in my own story.

When she transferred in, Caleb, who sat beside me, stared at her for a long time.

I remember watching him—how his eyes followed her, how his smile turned a little sharper. That day, something between us cracked, invisible but real.

In that moment, I knew something had changed.

There was no going back. I felt it in the pit of my stomach, cold and certain.

Sure enough, Caleb and Aubrey grew closer and closer. He stopped walking me home, and the back seat of his old bike became Aubrey’s exclusive spot.

Their laughter echoed down the block. Sometimes I watched from my window, pretending I was busy with homework, but the ache in my chest wouldn’t go away.

Even after I distanced myself from Caleb, Aubrey still disliked me.

She’d shoot me glares in the hallway, whisper snide remarks to her friends. No matter how invisible I tried to become, it was never enough.

She accused me of studying hard just to make others think Caleb had picked the wrong girl.

She cornered me by the lockers, her voice trembling with anger. "You’re just showing off! You want everyone to think he made a mistake, don’t you?"

Gradually, even Caleb believed it and started to resent me.

His glances grew colder, his jokes sharper. The warmth that once made me feel safe now burned.

He held Aubrey’s hand and called me manipulative in front of the whole class.

His words were loud enough for everyone to hear. The betrayal stung more than anything Aubrey could’ve said.

Aubrey would cry and accuse me of having no boundaries, of being the third wheel between them.

She’d make a scene in the cafeteria, tears running down her cheeks. I’d stand there, wishing the floor would swallow me up.

But I was the one who had grown up with Caleb. He was the one who confessed to me and promised we’d be together after the SATs.

I hugged those memories close at night, even as they turned into thorns.

Caleb just stood by and said nothing.

His silence hurt worst of all. The boy who used to defend me now looked away, hands in his pockets.

I was completely crushed.

The world I’d built—every hope, every promise—crumbled. I pulled away, telling myself I’d survive. I had to.

I distanced myself from Caleb, thinking that would bring peace.

I kept my head down, focused on school. But the whispers never stopped.

Until today.

……

Caleb opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

His lips parted, but nothing came out. Maybe he wanted to apologize. Maybe he just wanted to say goodbye.

Across from us, Aubrey called out:

"Caleb, let’s go. Come home with me."

Her voice was sharp, commanding. I could see her silhouette in the evening sun, one hand on her hip, the other holding her phone.

He glanced at me, but in the end, he left with her.

He hesitated for just a second, eyes flicking between us. Then he turned and walked away, his sneakers crunching on the gravel path. I watched them go, feeling emptier than I’d ever felt before.