Echoes of the Night

Echoes of the Night

Mireille Felt

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I have a secret: I have developed feelings for the boy who comes to me for psychological counseling. I spent six months supporting him and helping him overcome his feelings of inferiority. During this time, I could sense his vague affection for me. Just today, he asked to meet with me-but I turned him down. Because I can't, and I don't deserve to. In fact, I really hope that one day I can be excellent enough to openly tell him, "I like you."

Chapter 1 (Part One)

I had a secret: I'd fallen for a boy who came to me for counseling.

For six months, I'd been there for him, helping him work through his insecurities.

During that time, I could sense a subtle warmth, a budding fondness from him.

And today, he finally asked if we could meet in person – a request I turned down.

Because I couldn't. I wasn't ready, and maybe... I wasn't worthy.

I often wished I could someday be confident enough to look him in the eyes and say, "I like you."

01

Nikolas Briggs was every girl's dream.

He was calm, loved reading, and listened intently to people, always looking them right in the eye, a gentle smile at the corner of his mouth.

Yet, despite being the perfect guy on the surface, Nikolas also had his own secret.

He was completely deaf in his right ear and relied on a hearing aid.

We met by chance.

At the time, I was volunteering as an online counselor in a support group. My role was to assist students who needed psychological help but weren't comfortable with in-person counseling. Nikolas was one of those students.

From the moment he added my work account on our campus counseling app, I recognized him instantly.

He was just that well-known.

But I hadn't expected someone as seemingly perfect as Nikolas to struggle with such deep-seated insecurities.

Over time, I became his confidant. I listened to stories about his traumatic childhood, his everyday struggles, and bit by bit, we became friends.

The more I got to know him, the stronger my feelings grew.

I could sense that this sensitive, remarkable boy was also developing feelings for the "virtual me."

Finally, today, Nikolas asked to meet up in person.

I declined.

Because I hadn't been honest with him.

I wasn't the confident, accomplished person he thought I was.

In reality, I was just an insecure girl myself, because I was fat.

So, we set a "60-day challenge," giving ourselves two months to work on things before we met.

During this time, I resolved to lose weight.

I was determined to meet him as the best version of myself, no matter what.

To prepare for our meeting, I cut carbs and skipped dinner every night. Besides my daily workouts at the gym, I devoted two hours a day to Pilates. My whole life became centered on one goal: losing weight.

One day, after an exhausting workout, I felt lightheaded as I walked down the stairs.

My foot slipped, and I felt myself tumbling forward, completely out of control.

With so many steps below, I was certain I'd end up in the hospital.

Just as I shut my eyes in dread, bracing for the impact, a figure rushed from behind and grabbed me.

Unfortunately, he misjudged my weight, and inertia pulled us both down the stairs.

When I finally came to my senses, I found myself unharmed, cradled securely in his arms.

I was shaken. "Are... are you okay?"

He grimaced, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do I look okay?"

"I-I'll call an ambulance right now!" I fumbled for my phone.

At that moment, a familiar voice spoke from above. "Excuse me, do you need any help?"

I looked up into Nikolas's concerned gaze.

I'd never expected to meet him like this – sweaty, disheveled, and sprawled out on the floor with the guy who'd just saved me.

"N-no, I'm fine," I stammered, feeling a surge of strength. I hoisted my poor rescuer up and dashed out of Nikolas's view as quickly as I could.

Once we were out of sight, the boy in my arms chuckled. "Eve, for someone who's supposedly 'fragile,' you sure are strong."

Wait, he knew my name?

As he climbed off me, I finally got a clear look at him.

Tall, easily over six feet, with features sharper and cooler than Nikolas's, his gaze held a hint of playful mischief.

The more I looked, the more familiar he seemed. "Wesley?"

Back in high school, Wesley Shepherd and I used to sit together in English class before he transferred to another school for senior year. We'd lost touch since then.

But even more surprising than running into him was his appearance. "How did you get so fit?"

Wesley flexed his arm with a smirk. "We can catch up later. For now, let's get me to a hospital."

02

"You've got a strained ligament in your right arm. Take it easy and avoid any heavy activity."

I looked at the splint on Wesley's arm, my face full of guilt. "I'm so sorry. You got hurt the minute we met up, and if it weren't for you, I'd probably be in way worse shape right now."

"I'm fine," Wesley said, giving me a scrutinizing look. "But you... Low blood sugar, malnutrition – are you on some kind of crash diet?"

He was repeating the doctor's words, and I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious.

I was always the type who seemed to gain weight by just looking at food. I was never what anyone would call "slim."

When I was younger, I didn't really care much about looks, but the older I got, the more people around me seemed to judge women by their appearance. I thought I didn't care – until I met Nikolas.

It turned out that deep down, I wanted to look my best in front of the person I liked.

"Wesley, how did you lose all that weight?"

He'd gone from chubby to lean, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. He must've shed at least sixty pounds.

My mind started turning. "Do you know any way I could lose, say, twenty pounds... or maybe even thirty, in two months?"

Who would've guessed that after four years of no contact, my first conversation with Wesley would be asking him to be my weight-loss coach?

Honestly, I hadn't expected Wesley to take this whole "help me slim down" thing seriously, but the very next morning, I got a call from him, urging me to meet him for an early run.

I'd always been skeptical about jogging as a weight-loss method.

But what I was even more skeptical about was Wesley hauling me out of bed at six in the morning to go running.

"Isn't it true that jogging makes your calves bulky?" I asked, panting behind him, feeling like a dog struggling to keep up.

"That only happens if you have very little body fat to begin with. For someone as... well-rounded as you, it shouldn't be a problem."

I lost the will to continue this conversation. After another few hundred yards, I could barely keep going. "I give up! I'm just too heavy to handle this kind of intensity. It's impossible."

Wesley caught my hand with his left, his injured arm tucked close to his body. "Just a bit more. You're almost there."

"But... the doctor said no heavy activity..." I said, glancing at his splint.

"Focus on your breathing. Stop talking."

He didn't slow his pace, practically pulling me along for another few hundred yards before finally easing up. "Congratulations, you broke your own limits for today. See? A little effort, and look how far you went. If you can handle this, I'm sure you'll be able to stick to the rest of the training."

So he'd pushed me this hard just to build up my confidence?

Looking at him, I couldn't help but smile. "Well, Coach Shepherd, you've got a way with people."

Wesley reached over and ruffled my hair. "Come on, Coach Shepherd is taking you for a healthy breakfast."

As we ate, Wesley circled back to the question of why I wanted to lose weight so quickly.

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