echoes of what could have been

I was sitting on the porch, sketching absentmindedly, when I heard the unmistakable rumble of Bella's truck pulling up the driveway. The familiar sound tugged at my chest in a way I wasn't ready to confront. I hadn't seen Bella in a few days, and even though I'd tried to act like it didn't bother me, the truth was, every time I saw her, it felt like a reminder of the distance growing between us. The girl who once knew me so well, who I could talk to about anything, was slipping further and further away, and I had no idea how to pull her back.

I tried to focus on the sketch in front of me, the lines of it blurring together as I lost myself in my thoughts. The day before, Jessica had told me something that had unsettled me more than I'd like to admit. Bella had tried to join some random guy on his bike for a joyride. A thrill-seeking moment that just didn't sound like her. It wasn't like Bella to act on impulse, especially not with people she didn't know. But there she was, doing something reckless, and it made me wonder just how far she had fallen from the girl I once knew.

When she stepped out of the truck, I immediately saw it—the way her shoulders were hunched, the way she moved like a shadow of herself. The Bella who used to light up every room, who could take on the world with a smile, was nowhere to be found. I felt a pang of sadness, not just for her, but for me, too. I didn't know how to fix it. I didn't even know if she wanted fixing. She'd become so distant, so unreachable. It was like she had built up a wall around herself that I couldn't tear down, no matter how hard I tried.

I swallowed hard and, despite the knot in my stomach, asked softly, "You want to hang out today?"

Bella paused, her gaze flicking to the ground before meeting mine, and I could see the hesitation there. Like she wasn't sure whether she could handle being with anyone, even me. But then, after a long moment, she nodded. Slowly. Quietly. And for a brief second, I felt a small spark of hope.

"I have an idea," she said, her voice soft, almost as if she wasn't entirely convinced by her own words.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

And so, we found ourselves driving up to Jacob's house on the Rez, Bella's truck filled to the brim with scrap metal; which were actually old bikes. She hadn't explained why, but I didn't ask. I was too focused on the hollow feeling in my chest, I hadn't seen Jacob in so long; i was so busy trying to cease Bella's nightmares- he understood. I think.

Jacob's voice broke through the air, calling out in that familiar, easy-going way of his. "Bella!"

I turned to see him coming out of the garage, that wide, open grin plastered on his face. He always looked like he could smile forever, like the weight of the world couldn't touch him. And there it was again, that pang in my chest. Jacob's grin wasn't just warm; it was effortless. And that made it hurt even more. He was so at ease with Bella, so comfortable, while I was left standing on the edges, trying to find my place in a world that was growing farther away from me.

Bella met his grin with something softer, something more distant, but it was still a smile. It wasn't the bright, genuine smile I remembered, but it was enough. 

"Where the hell have you been, loca!" 

It was enough for him, anyway. Enough for him to pull her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her like it was the most natural thing in the world. And for a brief moment, I couldn't breathe.

I watched them, my stomach twisting in ways I couldn't quite explain. It wasn't just the fact that they had this easy connection, or the way he made her feel safe—it was the way he was so completely present for her. I couldn't help but notice it. And for some reason, that made everything feel more complicated.

Jacob finally pulled away, giving Bella room to breathe. She fidgeted with her hair, looking almost unsure of herself. "I—uh, brought you something..." she said quietly.

He turned toward me, his grin still stretched across his face. "Hey, Mari," he greeted me, his voice warm, before leaning in for a quick hug. It was the kind of hug that felt effortless—almost too comfortable—and for a moment, I almost didn't want to let go. "Hey, Jake," I replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.

Bella seemed to shrink a little under his gaze. She looked away quickly, as though unsure of what to say. "Okay..." she started, her voice barely audible. "It's a little crazy," she muttered, pulling back the tarp. Her words seemed to hover in the air, heavy with unspoken things.

Jacob raised an eyebrow, and his playful grin softened a little as he glanced at the motorcycles. "Wow, scrap metal. You shouldn't have," he teased. He was trying to lighten the moment, but his eyes still lingered on Bella, a little too fondly for my liking.

Bella sank into the boot of the car, her hands shoved in her pockets. "I saved them... from the junkyard," she explained, her voice quieter than usual. "I think they'll cost more to fix than they're worth. But I thought, if I had a mechanic friend to help me out..." She shrugged, clearly uncertain about the whole thing.

Jacob's smile widened, and I could hear the lightheartedness in his voice. "Me being the mechanic-type friend?"

Bella let out a small laugh, a sound that felt so rare from her I almost didn't believe it. "That's right."

I couldn't help but feel a pang of something—maybe frustration, maybe longing—but I pushed it down. It wasn't their fault. It wasn't like I had any right to feel anything about it. I needed to focus.

To ease the growing tension, I jumped in. "Since when are you into motorcycles?" I asked Bella, trying to shift the focus.

She answered flatly, "Since now," and the conversation stuttered in that awkward way it always did when we tried to fill the empty spaces with words that didn't quite fit.

Jacob's grin faltered, his eyebrows knitting together for a moment, but he quickly recovered, settling into his usual playful demeanor. "Right," he said, sounding unsure.

Bella picked up on his hesitation and quickly added, "I get it if you think this is stupid and reckless," she explained, trying to make light of it. "It is stupid and reckless. But, when do we start?"

Jacob smiled again, though this time it was tinged with a quiet sincerity. "Let's take a look at them," he said, as he moved closer to the bikes.

So, I stood off to the side, watching them, trying to convince myself that it didn't hurt as much as it did. But I knew it wasn't true. Because it did. It hurt more than I could say.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It's hard to put into words the weight of the conflict that lies within me. I find myself constantly walking the line between two things—my desire to support Bella, my sister, the person who's always been before me, gotten everything i had ever wanted, and the undeniable pull I feel towards Jacob. There are moments when it feels almost unbearable, this tension between the love I have for Bella and the growing affection I can't seem to control for Jacob. I've spent so many nights in the quiet of my room, staring at the ceiling, wrestling with my feelings, trying to figure out what's real and what's just my mind playing tricks on me. But no matter how many times I try to tell myself that I'm fine with it—that I'm fine with them—it's impossible to ignore the raw ache that settles in my chest when I see them together. It feels like just moments ago, i was on that beach; sand between my toes, wind wrapping itself against me. all with Jacob beside me.

It's in the way they look at each other, the way they interact as if they're in perfect sync, like the whole universe has conspired to bring them together. It's so effortless, so natural. And in those moments, I feel like an outsider, an observer, a mere shadow to their brilliance. There's a sharpness to it, a sting that hits me like a physical blow, every single time. The way Jacob smiles at Bella—there's a warmth in it, something that reaches all the way to his eyes, something that makes her feel like she's the only person in the world. It's something I've never had, not even once, and the longer I watch, the harder it becomes to pretend that it doesn't matter. It's so unfair, the way it hurts. I try to push the feelings away, try to convince myself that I can live with this. After all, Jacob isn't mine to have. I've known that from the beginning. He never will be. But those thoughts, as clear as they are in my mind, never fully silence the longing that bubbles up in my chest, especially when I'm alone with it. When Bella isn't around. When I'm left to my own devices, the fantasy takes hold. What would it be like, I wonder, if Jacob ever looked at me the way he looks at Bella? Would he smile at me with that same warmth? Would he laugh with me the same way, as though everything was easy? The thought feels comforting, fleeting. I want to believe that it could happen, but the reality always shatters that illusion. I'm not the one he sees. I never will be. And every time that realization hits, it's like a door slamming shut on a dream I never really had the courage to pursue.

I can't help but wonder, sometimes, if I'm being selfish. Bella is my sister, my flesh and blood, the one person in this world who's always been there for me. And Jacob—Jacob means so much to her. I know that. I've known it from the start. The way they look at each other, the way their relationship has evolved, it's hard not to see it. And yet, every time that jealousy bubbles up inside me, it feels like an act of betrayal, like I'm doing something unforgivable. I tell myself that it's just a momentary lapse, that I shouldn't allow myself to feel this way. After all, Bella's happiness is my happiness, right? But when I see them together, when I witness the effortless way Jacob looks at her, the way she lights up when he's around, it feels less like an occasional twinge of jealousy and more like a gaping wound that just won't heal. It gnaws at me, a constant reminder of the love I can never have. I've tried so hard to be okay with it, to tell myself that I'm being mature, that I should just let them be happy together. I've done everything I can to bury the truth beneath layers of forced smiles, but every time I watch them, I'm reminded of how much I'm missing. And I can't stop myself from wishing that it could be me instead of her. That it could be me, just for once, in the center of Jacob's attention, instead of watching from the sidelines, hoping for a glimpse of the connection that they share.

It's exhausting, this constant balancing act. I want to be happy for them. I want to be happy for Bella, because she deserves it. She deserves to have the kind of love that Jacob gives her. She deserves to have someone who looks at her with that intensity, that care. But at the same time, I'm suffocating under the weight of my own feelings. It's as if there's no room left for me, no space for my own heart, because I'm too busy trying to make sense of these emotions that don't make any sense at all. How can I support Bella when all I feel is this deep, gnawing jealousy, this bitterness that rises up whenever Jacob looks at her, whenever he speaks to her with that softness that I've never received from him? It's not that I want to take Jacob away from Bella—that's not what this is about. It's about me. It's about wanting something I can't have, and trying to find a way to reconcile the two halves of myself. The part of me that loves Bella fiercely, and the part of me that wants something more from Jacob. Every time they interact, it feels like I'm losing a little bit of myself, like I'm fading into the background, becoming invisible to both of them. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't stop it. I can't help it. And that makes me feel even worse, because I know I'm supposed to be the bigger person. I'm supposed to be the one who understands, the one who can set aside her feelings for the greater good. But what happens when the greater good is what causes you pain?

I don't know how long I can keep this up—pretending, smiling, being the supportive sister while inside, everything is slowly falling apart. Every time I see Bella and Jacob together, every time they share one of those moments that seem so effortless, it feels like I'm losing a piece of myself. It's a slow, painful erosion, and I can't stop it. I want to. I want to just let go of these feelings and be okay with what's happening between them. But I'm not. And I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to make it go away. I can't ignore the way Jacob's eyes light up when Bella walks into the room, the way his entire demeanor changes when she speaks. It's like he becomes a different person in her presence, a person who is open, warm, and completely at ease. That's the part of him I long for—the part of him that's free, that's unburdened by the heaviness that he carries when he's around me. And that hurts, because I know that I'll never be the one to make him feel that way. Bella will always be the one who gets to bask in that glow, the one who gets to be his everything, and I'll be left here, stuck in this limbo of wanting something I can't have, of pretending that I'm okay with being nothing more than a bystander to their love story.

Sometimes I question myself, wondering if this feeling of jealousy is even real. Maybe it's just a figment of my imagination, something I've convinced myself is there because it's easier than accepting the truth—that Jacob will never see me the way I see him. It would be easier to tell myself that this is all just a phase, something that will fade with time, that I'll eventually grow out of it. But the more I try to dismiss it, the more it lingers, like a shadow that refuses to fade. The more I try to pretend I'm fine with them, the more it builds inside me, a quiet pressure that threatens to explode at any moment. I want to believe that it's just a passing phase, something that will go away once I've had more time to process it. But deep down, I know it's not. I know that these feelings aren't something I can just dismiss, no matter how much I wish I could. Because the truth is, no matter how hard I try to ignore it, I want Jacob. And I want him in a way that goes beyond friendship, beyond the casual bond that we've formed over the mere months. And that's the hardest part to admit, because it's something I can never act on, something I can never say out loud.

I'm trapped in this cycle, and the more I try to make peace with it, the more I realize that peace might never come.