For days, I carried the same questions around with me.
I wanted to ask James what was happening between him and Joselyn, but every time I imagined the conversation, fear took over. What if he became angry? What if he told me I was imagining things again? What if he finally admitted that his feelings had changed? I wasn't ready for any of those answers. So I remained quiet, hoping that the distance between us would somehow disappear on its own.
But it didn't. One evening, after staring at my phone for what felt like forever, I finally decided to call him. My heart was beating so hard that I almost ended the call before he answered. When his voice finally came through, I felt relieved, but that relief didn't last. "James, can I ask you something?" I said carefully. "What?" His voice sounded tired.
I swallowed. "Are you okay with me?" There was silence. "Why are you asking me that?" he finally said. I didn't know how to explain everything without sounding jealous. "I just feel like you've changed." He sighed. "I'm not always going to be available. You need to understand that." His words hurt, even though they weren't necessarily cruel.
I became quiet. I wanted to tell him about Joselyn. I wanted to mention the romantic names, the shirt, the results, the gifts, and all the little things I had noticed. But I couldn't. Instead, I said, "Okay. I understand." Another silence followed.
I could hear my own breathing. "Is that all?" he asked. I looked down at the phone. "Yes." We ended the call shortly afterward. I sat there wondering why I had called in the first place. I had wanted reassurance, but instead I felt emptier. I had wanted him to say, Nothing has changed. You're still the person I choose. He didn't say it.
Maybe he didn't know that those were the words I desperately needed to hear. Or maybe he knew and simply couldn't say them. I cried that night, but quietly. I didn't want anyone to know. I had spent so much of my life hiding pain that hiding it had become almost natural. But something had changed inside me after that conversation. I stopped expecting James to return to the way he used to be.
I began accepting that people could change, feelings could change, and relationships could change. That didn't mean I stopped loving him. I still loved him deeply. But I was beginning to understand that love couldn't force someone to give you the same attention you gave them. The next morning.
I woke up with swollen eyes and a heavy heart. Life continued as though nothing had happened. People laughed. People talked. The world moved. But inside me, everything felt still. I wondered how someone who had once been my safest place had become the person I was most afraid to question.
I remembered the little girl I had once been—the girl who asked Grandma why her father hadn't chosen her. I realized I was carrying that same wound into my relationship with James. I wanted so badly to be chosen that I had become terrified of asking whether I still was. I didn't know what would happen next.
But I knew I couldn't keep living in fear forever. Something had to change. Either James would give me a reason to trust him again, or I would have to find the courage to stop chasing what was slowly slipping away. For now, though, I remained quiet.
I wasn't ready to let go. Not yet. I had spent my childhood wondering why I wasn't chosen. Now I was terrified that the person I loved most was teaching me that feeling all over again.