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Chapter Nineteen
The night didn't feel quiet—it felt like it was holding its breath.
She stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself, watching the streetlights flicker like they were unsure whether to stay on or give up. Her phone lay on the bed behind her, screen dark, heavy with everything unsaid. She hadn't checked it in over an hour, not because she didn't care, but because she cared too much.
When it finally buzzed, the sound sliced through the room.
She turned slowly, like she was scared the message might disappear if she moved too fast.
Him.
Just her name. Nothing else.
Her chest tightened. One word had never carried so much weight.
She picked up the phone, fingers hovering, then typed back.
Where have you been?
The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
She sat on the edge of the bed now, heart pounding, every second stretching thin.
I needed time, he finally sent. Things got messy.
Messy. That word again. It followed him everywhere, like an excuse he kept recycling.
She exhaled sharply and typed.
You don't disappear on someone you care about.
Another pause. Longer this time.
Outside, a car drove past too fast, music blasting, like the world hadn't noticed hers was cracking.
I know, he replied. That's why I'm scared.
Her throat burned. She hadn't expected that.
Scared of what? she asked.
There was a knock at the door.
Her entire body froze.
Another knock—firmer this time.
Her eyes darted between the door and her phone.
I'm outside, his message came through.
Her breath hitched. That wasn't part of the plan she'd made in her head—the dramatic texts, the emotional distance, the self-respect. None of those plans included him standing on the other side of her door, real and unavoidable.
She stood up slowly, each step toward the door feeling heavier than the last. When she opened it, there he was—hoodie slightly damp from the night air, eyes tired, familiar in a way that hurt.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
He looked like he had a thousand things to say and no idea where to start.
"You shouldn't be here," she said softly.
"I know," he replied. "But I couldn't stay away."
She laughed, a short, humorless sound. "That didn't stop you before."
He flinched. Good. He deserved to.
"I messed up," he said. "I thought I could fix things on my own, but all I did was push you away."
She crossed her arms again, not for warmth this time, but for protection. "You don't get to decide when I'm included in your life."
"I'm not trying to," he said quickly. "I just… I didn't want you seeing me like that. Confused. Angry. Not enough."
Her expression softened despite herself. That was the problem—no matter how much he hurt her, she still saw the boy behind the mistakes.
"You don't get to disappear," she said, voice trembling now. "I was worried. I didn't know if you were okay. Or if I even mattered."
He stepped closer but stopped himself, hands clenched at his sides. "You matter. Too much. That's what scared me."
Silence wrapped around them, thick and fragile.
Finally, she spoke. "You can't love someone only when it's convenient."
"I know," he said. "And I'm not asking you to forgive me. I just needed you to hear this—from me, not a message."
She studied his face, searching for the truth she always hoped to find. It was there—raw, unpolished, real.
But real didn't always mean safe.
"I don't know what happens next," she said honestly.
He nodded. "Neither do I."
She stepped back, giving him space. "I need time."
"I'll give you that," he said, even though it clearly hurt. "I'll wait. Properly this time."
As he turned to leave, something inside her shifted—not healed, not broken, just… aware.
"Hey," she called out.
He looked back, hope flickering dangerously in his eyes.
"Don't disappear again," she said.
"I won't," he promised.
The door closed softly behind him.
She leaned against it, heart racing, unsure whether this chapter was an ending or the beginning of something harder.
Outside, the streetlights stayed on.
And for the first time all night, so did she.