Erased by Tee Seabrone

Author:Tee Seabrone [Seabrone, Tee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SeaQuel Publishing Company
Published: 2025-02-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

AUDIE

Each day, I wait, hoping for a change that never comes. Leo hasn’t responded to my messages or acknowledged me in any way since the engagement party. Still, I know he isn’t avoiding everyone. His activity on Edgenote makes that clear. I see his posts, the way he interacts with others so easily, as if nothing has changed. He’s still there, still engaging with the world, just not with me.

I send him a friend request, telling myself that maybe he just hasn’t noticed my messages. Maybe he’s been busy. Maybe there’s an explanation that doesn’t end with me being shut out. But each time I check, the request remains untouched, sitting in limbo. It isn’t just silence. It’s rejection that’s deliberate and absolute.

At first, I try to let it go. If he wanted to talk to me, he would. If he cared, I wouldn’t be in this position. But the lack of answers festers, growing into something restless and insistent. I start looking for him in places I know he frequents, convincing myself that if I can just see him, if I can remind him that I exist, maybe it will break whatever invisible wall he’s placed between us.

It begins with small, justifiable actions. I go to one of his restaurants, telling myself it’s just for lunch, just a casual meal at a familiar place. There’s no harm in that. As I sit by the window, I allow my eyes to scan the room, hoping for a glimpse of him. When he doesn’t appear, I remind myself that it was always a long shot, and I leave without drawing attention to the disappointment curling inside me.

But one visit doesn’t feel like enough. The second time, I tell myself I’m being ridiculous. I shouldn’t expect anything different, yet I still glance toward the door every time someone walks in, still listen for the sound of his voice. By the third time, I stop pretending that I’m just there for the food. The pattern has formed, and I have no real excuse for it anymore. I order something small, take my usual spot, and wait, knowing deep down that he won’t come but unable to stop myself from hoping anyway.

It isn’t just about seeing him. It’s about proving to myself that I haven’t imagined what we were to each other, that I haven’t built up a connection in my mind that never truly existed.

The longer I sit, the more I become aware of the staff watching me, their expressions unreadable but curious. They’ve noticed. How could they not? The same woman, coming in alone, ordering just enough to justify taking up space but never enough to suggest she actually wants to be there for the food.

I don’t have much money to keep doing this. That part has become clear in ways I hadn’t fully considered before. River gives me things—clothes, gifts, small luxuries that make it seem as though I have everything I could possibly need—but money itself is never freely given.

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