Pitbabe S2, Chapter 29 pg 5

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 29 pg 5

   But at this point, I can’t turn back. If I don’t charge forward, I’ll just be standing here waiting for a pathetic death, which isn’t exactly my style.

   Charlie spent about three hours furrowing his brow at the computer before excusing himself to leave. It seemed he had too much on his mind to stay cooped up in the lab, or maybe sitting with me was putting so much pressure on him that his brain was working slower than usual. He waved goodbye just minutes before Phii Touch and Liu returned. I spent about an hour discussing the data I’d asked them to collect. Then we all went our separate ways home, reasoning there was nothing more we could do tonight. Better to rest and dive back in tomorrow.

   Instead of heading straight home, I stopped to stroll in a park not far from the lab. I know I don’t seem like the park-strolling type, but trust me, it’s one of my favorite things to do. The green park at dusk always slows my restless mind.

   If I said the reason my mind’s so unsteady right now is the tense situation at the lab, that’d be true. Uncontrollable obstacles in the research are popping up like mushrooms, and the people who can help solve them number fewer than the fingers on one hand. Everything’s piling up in a short span of time—just thinking about it gives me a throbbing headache. But that’s not the whole reason I’m dragging my feet here like a soulless husk.

   I’m trying to talk myself out of asking questions.

   I’ve made up my mind to see this through to the end. Even though a new goal has unexpectedly crept in, my original purpose remains. That first goal—the one that brought me back despite thinking I’d leave everything behind to start a new life. I used to believe that abandoning the past would lighten my load and let me move forward faster. But that’s not how it turned out. In my reality, every step feels sluggish. I’m weighed down by burdens I’ve tried to cut loose but can’t sever. The harder I run, the more exhausted I get. Rivals overtake me one after another, while I falter and regress. The future blurs. A psychiatrist friend once told me I don’t truly want to let go of the past, despite what I say. The feelings I express to others are just what I think I should feel, not what I actually feel or even want to feel. That’s why I finally had to admit I’m not ready to move forward.

   And because I can’t move forward, I’m back here, fixing what I “didn’t do” in the past, so I can live in the present and see the future I’ve always wanted.

   The problem is, I originally came back for myself. But now, my head’s filled with other people’s concerns. I’m worrying about others more than ever before. The trust I’ve placed in Charlie and the rest is starting to scare me. I’m afraid of losing myself, afraid that caring too much will make me weak and hurt me. I liked my old life, living behind a shield. I liked having clear boundaries—it was safe and peaceful. But now those lines are fading. My space is being invaded by an ugly enemy called “friendship.” Just thinking about it makes me nauseous, like I want to vomit. Yet, at the same time, I’m wallowing in my own mess.

   I hate how my heart overworks itself. I don’t want to care. I don’t want to take on others’ pain as if it’s my own. I don’t want attachments. Those things are delusions for fools—idiots who only see the beauty of a rose and crave it, scrambling to possess it, gripping a stem full of sharp thorns while convincing themselves they’re overflowing with joy, even as their hands bleed.

   I don’t want to be a fool anymore.

   “How long are you going to keep following me?”

   As I strolled slowly, letting my thoughts wander, my senses were alert every second. The crunch of footsteps on dry leaves, the fleeting feeling of eyes watching from behind—I’d noticed it all along and was waiting to see how far he’d trail me. I’d looped nearly the entire park, and now the sky was pitch black, lit only by the deep orange glow of streetlights spaced along the path. Some stretches were so far apart it was hard to see the walkway. The crowd had thinned, with only distant sounds filtering through. The closest noise was his footsteps.

   “I’m not following you,” he replied calmly. “I was just heading this way.”

   I stopped walking and turned to face him.

   Pete hesitated slightly but still managed to keep his expression composed.

   “If that’s the case, could you walk ahead of me? I’m feeling uneasy with someone trailing behind like this.”

   “I’m not even close to you. I’m keeping my distance.”

   “If you’re not following me, why bother keeping a distance?”

   He holds a billion-dollar business in his hands, yet he’s naive when standing before me. The way he looks at me, it’s as if he’s cast aside everything—dignity, reason, pride, even his image. Every time we meet, he seems desperate and confused. The reason isn’t hard to guess, but what I can’t predict is how long it’ll take for him to finally wake up from this dream.

   “Okay, I admit I followed you, but I swear I didn’t mean to tail you here. I was just passing by and saw you walking alone. I wanted to say hi… but I didn’t dare.”

   “Why not?”

   “I don’t know… you looked like you wanted to think alone.”

   “If you knew that, you should’ve left me alone.”

   “I wanted to, but I was worried.”

   His words are laughable. Does he think occasional chance meetings and work-related contact give him the right to worry about me? Seeing this, I’m even more curious about what Way taught him. How can he be so naive and shallow about this when he’s so sharp about everything else?

   “Why?”

   “Huh?” Pete looked puzzled.

   “I asked why you’re worried.”

   “Well, we… know each other.”

   “Do you worry about everyone you know?” I scoffed. “Such a kind heart.”

   “I’ve helped you plenty of times, at least.”

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