Chapter 12: 🌶️ Forbidden Thoughts

Morning arrives after a near sleepless night, and I get up with a heaviness pressing on my chest. Everything I’ve discovered, everything I’ve hidden, weighs on me like a burden I carry into every corner of my mind.

The mere thought of facing Emma at breakfast makes me feel sick. How can I look her in the eye, knowing everything I know now? How can I pretend that nothing’s changed?

I decide to take the easy way out. I grab my phone and quickly type a message to my mom, giving a flimsy excuse to avoid going downstairs.

Me (message): “Didn’t sleep well ... I think I’ll skip breakfast, I’ll grab something later.” I have no desire to justify myself further; I doubt she’ll press me on it anyway. I grab my bag and leave the house quickly, without running into anyone. The cool morning air brings a slight relief, but it doesn’t last. The weight returns almost instantly, like a shadow that refuses to let me go.

At university, I try to lose myself in routine, to drown in classes just to avoid thinking about all of this. But it’s useless. Everything feels so heavy, so tangled. My thoughts keep spiraling, always circling back to the same thing. To Emma. To Emmy. To this damn lie that I have no idea how to handle.

I feel Jack’s eyes on me, noticing his familiar frown, the same one he’s given me for the past few weeks. But this time, he doesn’t just ask a casual “You okay?” and let it go. He corners me, really pushing for an answer.

Jack: “Look, man, you’ve been acting weird for weeks. What’s really going on? Is it about that girl you mentioned the other day?” My stomach twists. The last thing I need is to explain this whole mess to someone else. Jack doesn’t look like he’s planning to drop it, though; I can see that. I sigh and try to give an answer that, hopefully, will get him to back off.

Me: “It’s complicated, Jack. I don’t know, maybe I got a little too emotionally invested in something that might not even be worth it.” Jack studies me for a moment, probably trying to read more on my face. But I keep it neutral, trying not to give anything away. He finally nods, though I know he’s not fully convinced.

Jack: “If you ever want to talk, you know I’m here, man.” I nod back, forcing a smile to cover the tension. But inside, I feel everything crumbling just a little more.

The first message from Emma arrives late in the morning, right in the middle of class. My phone buzzes quietly in my pocket, and a chill of apprehension runs through me. When I find a moment to check, her message is there, simple and lighthearted.

Emmy (message): “Hey you! Hope your day is off to a good start 😊”

I read her message over and over, trying to feel what I’m supposed to feel, but nothing comes. Instead, there’s a knot in my stomach that only seems to grow. I hesitate to reply, but I know I have to. I type something simple, keeping it neutral.

Me (message): “Hey! Yeah, all good. How about you? 😊” The class continues around me, but I’m completely detached. The professor’s words fade into background noise, distant and indistinct. I wait for her response with a dull sense of dread, fully aware that I’m sinking deeper into this lie.

When her message finally comes through, it’s full of joy and excitement, as if last night’s revelation lifted some invisible weight from her.

Emmy (message): “I’m so happy since last night! I feel so good, like a weight’s been lifted. I feel like we’re even closer now 😘” My heart twists painfully. She’s happy, and here I am, lying, pretending. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. I reply quickly, hoping it’ll be enough.

Me (message): “I’m glad you’re feeling good. It’s like we’re closer now 😉”

Classes pass by in a blur, but I’m completely unable to focus. Each message from Emma is a cruel reminder of the mess I’m in. Between two classes, my phone vibrates again, and with each vibration, it’s as if the guilt rises higher, drowning me from the inside.

She even sends a few photos, casual selfies, her smile bright and carefree.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying that. But it doesn’t feel the same anymore. Each photo hurts. I look at them with a crushing weight in my chest, a twisted mix of morbid fascination and disgust. The excitement I once felt has turned into a feeling of betrayal—toward her, toward myself. And it’s eating me alive from the inside.

I reply to each message, playing my role, but every word drains me. I feel like I’m sinking deeper with every exchange. The shame eats away at me, yet I’m unable to do what’s needed to end it.

When the day finally draws to a close, I feel empty, exhausted. All I want is to go home, lock myself in my room, and try to figure out a way out of this nightmare. But I know it’s not that simple. The lie has grown too big, too tangled for me to simply make it disappear.

The end of the day finally arrives, and I feel like I’ve been through a battlefield. Every minute has been a struggle against myself, against what I truly feel. The thought of going home feels daunting—I know it won’t be easy. But I have no choice; I have to face it, even if I have no idea how.

I take a deep breath before stepping through the door. The house is quiet, but the weight of my lie is everywhere. It’s as if the walls themselves know my secret, ready to betray me with the slightest misstep.

I wonder how much longer I can keep this up, lying, pretending. But for now, I have no other option. I have to keep going, even if it’s tearing me apart a little more each day.

Back home after an exhausting day, I push open the front door, hoping to find a moment of peace. But as soon as I step inside, I hear a soft humming coming from the kitchen. Curious, I move quietly and find Emma preparing dinner, a radiant smile lighting up her face. She looks more vibrant than I’ve seen her in months—maybe even years.

She moves with a lightness, almost dancing in place—a striking contrast to the withdrawn, guarded attitude she’s had lately. The gentle sound of her voice humming a familiar tune fills the air, bringing a warmth to the house that I haven’t felt in a long time.

I lean against the doorway, watching her without daring to move, afraid of breaking this rare moment of pure happiness. Yet, a sense of unease begins to creep over me. I know why she’s so joyful, why she’s glowing like this ... and it unsettles me deeply.

Just then, my mother enters, a curious smile on her face, probably drawn by the unusually cheerful atmosphere in the kitchen.

Mom: “Well, Emma, you’re positively glowing today! Is something special going on?” Emma turns around, her eyes sparkling, her smile widening even more.

Emma: “Oh, nothing special ... I just feel good, that’s all.” My mother narrows her eyes with a playful smirk, clearly amused by Emma’s enigmatic response.

Mom: “Just feeling good, huh? Seems like someone might have you a little lovestruck ... You know you can tell me anything.” Emma blushes slightly, lowering her gaze to the countertop where she’s busy with dinner prep.

Emma: “Maybe ... But it’s nothing serious, Mom. Just someone I’ve been talking to a lot lately.” My mother’s curiosity visibly sharpens, though she keeps her tone gentle.

Mom: “Ah, I see ... And does this ‘someone’ make you happy?” Emma gives a shy smile, avoiding a direct answer, while casting a quick glance at her mother.

Emma: “I don’t know yet. It’s just ... nice, that’s all. It feels good to talk to someone who gets you, I guess.” My mother nods, a thoughtful look on her face, but doesn’t press further.

Mom: “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters. But if you ever need to talk more about it, I’m here, okay?” Emma nods, still wearing that mysterious smile. My mom gives her a gentle pat on the shoulder before slipping out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with my troubled thoughts.

Dinner comes together quietly, and I can’t help but steal glances at Emma, trying to grasp what’s really going on in her mind. Seeing her so lively, so full of energy, stirs a mix of relief and overwhelming guilt within me. I should be happy for her, but I can’t ignore that it’s all built on a lie—a lie I’m forced to keep feeding.

Once the meal is ready, we sit down to eat. The atmosphere is light, filled with laughter and casual chatter. My mom, ever curious, drops a few hints here and there, but Emma just responds with shy smiles, skillfully steering the conversation away whenever it veers too close to her real feelings.