Silent Signals

Jason didn't believe in fate.

Not anymore, anyway.

Maybe he used to—back when things felt simpler. Back when all it took was a random friend request on a social media app to change the course of his life.

He remembered the moment vividly.

Her profile picture had popped up: Lena Solis.

Narrow, curious eyes. A mischievous smile. Dimples that felt like tiny secrets.

"Cute girl," he thought casually. Then clicked Accept.

He hadn't known, then, that they went to the same university. The same batch. It wasn't until second year, when the class sections reshuffled and he found himself sitting near the back of a new classroom, that he saw her walk in—smiling, chatting with someone from her old block.

It hit him like a glitch in the system.

That's her?

Lena.

Smart. Gorgeous. The type who knew the answer before the professor finished asking the question.

She laughed loudly. She teased her guy friends without hesitation. She wore her confidence like a well-fitted jacket—effortless, never too tight.

Jason was the opposite. Quiet. Observant. The kind of guy who always arrived five minutes early and kept his thoughts to himself.

He watched from a distance. Never said anything more than "present" during roll call, and never gave her a reason to notice him.

It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her. It was that everyone else already was.

She was that girl—loved by many, close to few. The boys around her floated like moths to a flame. Some subtle. Some not.

One afternoon, during a break between classes, he overheard a group of guys talking just a few rows away.

"Bro, did you see the way Lena handled the recitation today?"

"She's too sharp, man. Like, how does she even store all that info?"

"Beauty and brains."

"I swear, if she weren't so close with Daryl, I'd make a move."

Jason kept his head down, pretending to scroll through his phone.

Then someone said, "You have a crush on her too, right, Jay?"

Jason looked up slowly. It was Alex, the class clown.

He gave a tight smile. "She's... cool."

"Cool?" Alex snorted. "Come on, man. You've been lowkey staring at her every recitation. You even liked her post from, 5 years ago."

Jason flushed and quickly pocketed his phone. "I like a lot of posts."

The others laughed.

"She's got all of us whipped," one of them said, half-joking, half-defeated.

Jason forced a laugh too. But it sat heavy in his throat.

Because it was true. They all liked her. And that made it worse.

How do you speak to someone when your voice would just get drowned out by ten others?

So, Jason said nothing.

He just watched. Quietly. Respectfully.

He noticed the way she pulled her sleeves over her hands when the air conditioner was too cold.

The way she bit her lip when she was concentrating.

How she always greeted the janitor. Always smiled at students who greeted her. She is the campus girl crush.

But it wasn't just her beauty he fell in love with.

He saw her stay behind once to help a classmate who was crying over a failed quiz. Lena didn't have to, but she did.

And it crushed him, just a little. Because people like her? They shone so bright, it made you forget you were even standing in the same room.

It wasn't until much later—when circumstances pushed them closer—that Lena really saw him.

But by then, Jason had already built up a version of her in his head. Not idealized. Not perfect. Just... honest.

He liked her in the quiet ways.

Not the loud proclamations, not the flashy flirtations. But in the way you love the scent of a book you never bought.

In the way you memorize a song but never sing it aloud.

In the way you watch a star for so long it becomes part of your sky.

Coincidence? Sure.

Bad timing? Constantly.

But fate felt too much like a cop-out for people who didn't want to take responsibility. So, when he accepted the offer to join Love Unseen, it wasn't because he thought he'd find "the one" under studio lights and manufactured first impressions.

It was because he wanted to forget and found himself for being so lost.

Forget the way Lena used to laugh at his serious face. Forget the night when he regrets agreeing to the breakup after being together for six years. Forget that he didn't stop her.

He thought he'd be walking into a clean slate. Cameras, scripted moments, strangers to distract him from the ghost still clinging to his ribs.

What he didn't expect—what truly blindsided him—was her.

Lena.

Walking through the studio doors like a dream that refused to die quietly. Her posture stiff, her smile a little too bright, her eyes wide with panic for a second before the host greeted her.

He knew she wasn't expecting him either. That flicker of shock—it cut deep. She covered it well, but he saw it. He felt it.

And she didn't say a word.

Neither did he.

Because what the hell was, he supposed to say? "Hi, I am sorry that our relationship did not last after six years, and I am afraid to admit my mistakes and just watched you crumble in silence. Wanna grab a drink later?"

No.

So, he sat there, stone-faced, with a heartbeat roaring in his ears, while Lena's name echoed in the studio and she walked toward the only empty seat.

Next to him.

Of course.

Because fate, or bad luck, or whatever the hell this was, had a sick sense of humor.

She didn't look at him. He didn't look at her. But every inch of space between them was saturated with history. His knee brushed hers by accident, and her flinch made his gut twist.

Jason didn't regret the breakup.

At first.

He had to admit that he was happy. But that did not last.

He had planned it for months. Carefully. Not in a manipulative way—maybe. Maybe he just wants the breakup to be clean.

He just didn't know how to say all of that without hurting her.

So, he waited. Waited for the next fight. For the next crack in the foundation. And when it finally came—when Lena challenged him to the breakup…

He agreed.

He let her walk away.

He didn't chase.

He told himself it was mutual, even when he knew that her eyes filled with tears. Even when her voice cracked. He knew it even though they just ended it in the text.

Just a text.

And for a while, he was relieved. Free.

A year passed, and the silence he once craved became a cage.

He missed her.

Not every second. Not in some obsessive way. Just... in the way you miss the version of yourself that made sense around someone else.

So, when Love Unseen reached out with a spot on a new dating show—one with "emotional connection at the core"—he laughed.

Then he said yes.

Because what was left to lose?

He didn't expect Lena to be here.

And now that she was... he felt like a coward.

She looked good. Strong. That familiar glint of resilience in her eyes, even if her smile faltered. She was doing what he should've done months ago, trying to move on.

He thought he still had a chance to talk to her. Especially after what he overheard last night. That she still wanted him, even after the breakup.

No. She wanted him to stay and said no to the break up.

But he also knew she might still be hurting. Angry. Confused. Anything was possible.

And he wasn't naive, of course someone in the house would be interested in Lena. How could they not be?

And today, she'd already gone on a date.

With Nathan.

Jason watched them return to the house that evening, cheeks pink from the sun or laughter, eyes avoiding the cameras like they shared a secret. Lena's laugh drifted down the hallway, soft and real.

And something inside Jason clenched.

He told himself it didn't matter. They were broken. Done. She deserved to smile again.

But damn it, it stung.

Later that night, alone in the men's room, he caught his reflection in the mirror.

Unshaven. Tired. Holding too much in, as always.

He hated that he still missed her. He hated that his chest tightened when he remembered the little crease between her brows when she was focused. He hated that he was here, pretending to look for love, when the only person he ever loved was one seat away, pretending he never existed.

Jason splashed water on his face.

He didn't know what the show would bring. Whether Lena would fall for someone new, or if they'd make it through eight weeks barely speaking.

But he knew this, he didn't hate her.

And he sure as hell didn't forget her.

Maybe that was his punishment. To sit next to the girl, he let go... and watch someone else earn the smile that used to be his.