The Ru Effect

Chapter forty one

The living room is a mix of chaos and calm, with my nephews running around, their laughter filling the air.

Tejiri and I sit on the couch, the TV droning on in the background, though neither of us is really watching.

My brother, Tom, is in his room with his wife, probably having one of those quiet moments parents steal when the kids are distracted.

Mom went to check on the mall earlier, and Dad’s gone to some board meeting or something like that as usual.

I try to focus on the noise, the normalcy of family life, but my mind keeps drifting back to River.

I called him again last night again after the dinner. But when the call rang out and went unanswered, that sinking feeling in my chest grew heavier.

He’s been doing this more lately after I asked him if he was alright, disappearing into his own world, cutting off from everyone. From me.

I bite my lip, trying to keep my thoughts in check. My fingers twitch, itching to pick up my phone again, to send another message. But I stop myself. I’ve already called twice. The last thing I want is to come across as desperate, even though the worry gnaws at me.

Tejiri stretches beside me, adjusting the cushions. “You good?” she asks, her voice casual, but I can feel her eyes on me. I tense up, forcing a smile before she can dig deeper.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, trying to sound breezy, but even I can hear the strain in my voice.I know she’s not convinced. I’m not either.

Tejiri shifts in her seat, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watches me. I know she can sense something’s up. She always has this way of reading me, even when I try to hide things.

She's more like a lie detector

“Is it about River again?” she asks, and there’s no point in lying anymore. I can feel my shoulders slump just a little as I nod.

“Yeah,” I admit, my voice quiet. There’s an awkwardness that creeps in when it comes to talking about River, especially with Tejiri. I’m not used to talking about boys with my sister, not like this.

Even though she's reassured me that she won't judge me.

But still,It feels… strange. Exposing. So I don’t say much. Just enough to answer her question, but nothing more.

Tejiri sighs, leaning back against the cushions, her arms crossed over her chest. “Kobiruo, you can still back off, you know? It’s not too late. You’re not in too deep yet.”

Her words rub me the wrong way immediately, and before I can stop myself, I bristle. “Why does everyone keep telling me to back off?” I snap, my tone sharper than I intend. “River needs me. I’m not just going to leave him.”

Tejiri raises an eyebrow at my reaction, clearly not expecting me to get so defensive. She shakes her head, her expression softening into something almost sympathetic. “He has Rachel, doesn’t he?” she asks, like that should be enough of an explanation. Like Rachel is somehow enough.

The mention of Rachel makes my blood boil, the frustration bubbling up inside me.

“You don’t understand,” I say, my voice rising. “Rachel doesn’t know him like I do. She acts like she’s the only one who can help him, but she’s not. I’m not going to just walk away because you or anyone else thinks I should.”

Tejiri’s eyes widen at my outburst, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. The tension hangs thick in the air, and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks, my chest tight with anger.

“Kobi…” Tejiri starts, but I’m already done with the conversation. I don’t want to hear what she has to say anymore. She just doesn’t get it. None of them do.

I push myself up from the couch, my movements stiff with frustration. “Im sorry but I don’t want to talk about this,” I mutter, turning on my heel and storming off toward my room before she can say another word.

The door slams behind me with a loud thud, and I stand there for a moment, my hands clenched into fists, my heart pounding in my chest.

I hate that I let her get under my skin like that. I hate that she made me feel like I had to defend myself, defend my connection with River.

Sinking onto the edge of my bed, I pull my knees up to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. I know Tejiri means well, but right now, I just need to be alone.

I need to figure this out without everyone telling me what to do, without people acting like they know what’s best for me… or for River.

As I stare at the ceiling, my phone buzzes. My heart skips a beat when I see the name on the screen—River. For a moment, I just stare at the phone, my thumb hovering over the answer button. It’s like every emotion I’ve been bottling up is sitting in my throat, choking me.

I press "Answer" and hold the phone to my ear.

Silence.

He’s there. I know he is, I can feel it in the heavy pause, in the way neither of us speaks. My breath is shaky as I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. That silence... it says so much and nothing at the same time.

Something inside me snaps, and before I can stop myself, the words spill out, sharp and jagged.

“Why do you keep doing this?” I blurt out, my voice cracking with a mix of frustration and anger.

"Why do you keep shutting me out? You told me you’d try to let me in, but you still ghost me whenever you feel like it. You disappear, and I’m just supposed to wait until you’re ready to come back?”

I don't give him a chance to speak. The emotions I’ve been holding back flood out. "Do you even know how worried I was after our last video call? I kept thinking something was wrong, and you just... you just disappeared like it’s nothing.”

There's a pause on the other end of the line. I wait for him to say something, anything. But all I get is more silence, and it makes my heart pound even harder.

Finally, his voice comes through, quiet and low. “I’m sorry, Ru”

Those two words. The ones I’ve heard too many times. I clench my jaw, biting back the urge to tell him how tired I am of hearing those words. Sorry doesn’t fix it. Sorry doesn’t make the worry go away.

I close my eyes, swallowing my frustration. “It’s fine,” I say, though we both know it’s not.

There’s more silence between us, but this time, it’s different. It’s softer, less tense. I let myself sink into the quiet, lying back on my bed with the phone still pressed to my ear. I can hear him breathing, and somehow, that sound is comforting.

After what feels like forever, River’s voice breaks through again, so soft that I almost think I imagined it. “I miss you.”

Those three words catch me completely off guard. My heart stutters in my chest, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. He never says things like that. Not like this.

“I miss you too,” I whisper back, my voice barely above a breath.

I want to ask him how he’s doing, how he’s really feeling. The words are right there on the tip of my tongue, but I stop myself. I don’t want to push him, not now. There’s a delicate balance here, and I don’t want to break it.

So instead, we fall into a different kind of silence—one that feels lighter. It’s almost peaceful.

The tension from before is gone, replaced with something... softer. I close my eyes, feeling the warmth of the moment, even though we’re miles apart.

For now, this is enough. The heavy words, the worry, the frustration... they can wait. Because in this moment, with River on the other end of the line, telling me he misses me—it’s enough.