“I understand.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
He moved toward the door.
Then he looked back at me.
“Good night, Sarah.”
“Good night.”
He left, and I closed the door.
I sat on the bed for a long time, staring at my hands.
I had drawn a boundary.
But I couldn’t ignore the fact that part of me had been relieved to hear that I wasn’t imagining the tension.
That relief filled me with shame.
The next morning, we barely spoke.
We ate breakfast in silence, discussed his college paperwork, and spent the afternoon running errands.
I told myself the awkwardness would pass.
But that evening, something happened that made the situation more complicated.
Jake found me sitting alone in the garden.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
I looked up from my book.
“And?”
“You’re right. I can’t build my life around a feeling.”
I closed the book.
