I'm Terminal, Yet He's Unavailable

When Carl called, my swollen eyes flicked to the time—almost eleven.

The phone buzzed in my hand, fresh tears splashing onto the screen.

Three calls. I didn't pick up.

Surprisingly, the fourth was from Mia.

I was about to shut off my phone when Carl's message popped up:

[Stop messing around. I'm not coming back tonight. Stay safe. Your condition isn't serious, right?]

A bitter laugh slipped out.

I replied: [Not serious at all. Have fun. I'm going to sleep.]

He sent a goodnight emoji. That was it.

When did we become like this?

We were both orphans, clinging to each other, trying to survive. I used to believe we'd get our fairy-tale ending.

Then Mia showed up.

She called herself a friend. But the way she looked at Carl? It was the way I did.

Did he really not see it?

At 1 AM, my screen lit up. A message from Mia.

[Sorry, Yara. My parents insisted Carl and I share a room. Hope you don't mind. Nothing happened, really.]

A photo followed.

Carl, asleep on a makeshift bed beside hers. His lips, though, had a faint trace of lipstick.

Mia always swore she didn't like him. But every move she made screamed otherwise—a clear challenge, a silent claim.

Back in high school, our duo became a trio.

Mia was loud, fearless, slipping into Carl's world like she belonged there. She did everything the guys did.

Carl studied sports. So did she.

And suddenly, he couldn't stop talking about her.

How loyal she was. How she wasn't like other girls.

They got detention together. Skipped class to hit internet cafés. Fought side by side.

Carl never ran out of things to say about her.

I'd ask, careful, hesitant, "Do you like her?"

He'd laugh—loud, dismissive—like I'd just told the dumbest joke.

When he finally stopped, he said, "Mia's just a tomboy. I'd never go for someone like her. The only one I like is—"

He never finished.

Just stared at me, eyes burning, unwavering.

My heart pounded.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her.

After that, Mia started dressing up.

And once she did—she was stunning.

That radiant smile... impossible to ignore.

I remembered her once telling another girl, casual, smug—

"If I went after Carl, he'd definitely fall for me. I mean, look at me. So much better than that half-blind girl next to him. But I won't rush. I'll let him come to me on his own."