Chapter 8
He shows up at my door after midnight.
No warning.
I open it barefoot. And with just a towel around me. Vulnerable. Real.
He’s shaking.
“I can’t do this,” he says. “Not like this.”
My world explodes when he steps inside and presses his forehead to mine. No kiss. Just contact.
I feel like time ends when he says the words out loud.
“He wants me to choose.”
My chest tightens.
“And?” I ask.
Silence.
That’s the answer.
We fight for the first time.
Real fight.
It burns hot. I accuse him of cowardice. He accuses me of not understanding what it costs.
I feel our future fading. We stand on opposite sides like strangers.
Our love tries to survive. He reaches for me. I step back.
“I don’t know if love is enough,” he says.
He leaves.
And part of me feels like maybe that was the last time I’ll ever see him.
Like we said our last words.
And there was nothing left to write.
