Spare change

It had started off well, she recalled. Back then when the anticipation of a phone call from him caused a shiver of heated excitement to streak down her spine. She remembered how she sat by the phone, gripping it with increasing intensity as she stared at the clock. Anytime now, she recalled, as the second hand inched its way across the minute surface of the number '10' on her watch. Then her phone trilled into life within her palm, its screen winking his name through the thin glass.

She remembered having animated conversations with him, her eyes creasing at the corners with mirth as he spoke. It was entertainment to speak with him, to have him soaring joy into her life like an escaped lark. And each time he did that he caused a love, then still vehemently ignored, but decreasingly so, to leap like sparks, where she could one day deny it no more.

Then somehow things changed. She sat, hunched up, muffling her sobs against the back of her hand as she listened, still gripping the phone with the same intensity as she always did. But her words were different this time. They were harsh, and the reply she received was no less savage.

"Stop crying! I have only 40 minutes left- do you want to listen or not?"

She never heard him say that before. A sharp spurt of pain dulled the retort in her throat.

" I do." She said, as firmly as she could manage while forcing a watery grimace, her face whiter than a wedding veil.

But he'd done it. He'd shunned her tears, when he'd once opened his arms to comfort her for that very act, taking away with him an infinitesimal amount of her love. And somehow, hearing his voice break too gave her a vague sense of satisfaction that hovered swimmingly at her lips.
But it wasn't her fault. Or was it? She couldn't figure out, nor could she hide her confusion behind the short, sharp rasps of breath she struggled to take as she pressed the little red button on the screen and watched as the phone fell silent once more. Dizzy and lightheaded, she left her seat and headed for the bedroom, where she gazed into the mirror at her own reflection staring back at her through red, swollen eyes. As she did so she flipped the light switch, and with her head still swarming with his words, she collapsed on the bed, exhausted, but thinking.

Then day broke before she had even slept a wink. And a vague thought occurred to her, something she felt had been stolen from her as the night slumbered on.
She always loved him, she knew.

Chu got posted into social science at nanyang poly. I'm proud of him, because at least he's taken this one step to securing his future which would hopefully, be with me.

One thing for sure is that I know he'll own them all. He's fairly smart enough, and having once achieved the top in the level for gp, it shouldn't be a problem. I'm looking at him to get a gpa or 3.7 at minimum? I suppose that should put him in good running for a place in fass.

On the other hand, there's me. And I'm receiving my A level results in this coming March. I don't know how I'll even do, because frankly, I should have gone straight to the poly. I know I'd actually be able to excel in something I want there- but instead I was herded off into the jc route. I'm afraid I don't get my required ues, and if I don't, well, I guess hello private uni, or hello poly.
I'm not sure. I'll admit that I'm fearful, of where I'd end up and what I'd do. Because I don't think I'm smart enough.

I reread snippets of our conversations from the past. Back then when you were still helping me and, in return, so was I.

And you used to care for me a lot.
You used to show it.
And for that matter, I did too.
I showed it, and you liked it.

But I don't even know what happened, because we can't seem to care like we did before.
I don't feel it as much, and neither can I give as much if I don't feel it.

What's going on?