Mara woke with the unsettling sense that something had already gone wrong.
It wasn't a sound or a dream that stirred her it was absence.
The other side of the bed was empty. Cold.
She sat up slowly, sheets slipping from her shoulders, listening. The apartment was quiet in that hollow way that meant someone had left without meaning to wake her.
She wrapped herself in a sweater and stepped into the hallway.
Julien's door was open.
The bed inside was neatly made. Too neatly.
Her chest tightened.
In the kitchen, a mug sat beside the sink, untouched. Next to it lay his phone.
That was when her stomach dropped.
Julien never forgot his phone.
She picked it up before she could stop herself, intending only to bring it to him until the screen lit up with a message notification.
Unknown Contact:
Last night didn't change anything. We still need to talk.
Her fingers went numb.
The room felt suddenly too small, the walls closing in as her mind raced to fill in gaps she hadn't been invited to understand.
Last night didn't change anything.
The words replayed over and over.
She told herself not to jump to conclusions. Told herself she didn't know the context. Told herself that trust was the entire point of what they were trying to rebuild.
But fear was faster than reason.
Julien emerged from the bathroom moments later, towel slung over his shoulder, hair damp. He froze when he saw her standing there, his phone clenched in her hand.
"Mara," he said carefully. "What's wrong?"
She held up the phone. "Who is that?"
His jaw tightened.
"That's not" He stopped himself, exhaled. "That's complicated."
The word shattered something fragile inside her.
"Complicated?" she repeated quietly. "You slept next to me last night."
"I know."
"And this morning, I wake up to this?"
He stepped forward. "Let me explain."
"No," she said, voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. "Don't explain. Just tell me the truth."
Julien rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion flooding his expression. "She's someone from before. From work. From… a time when I wasn't handling things well."
"Before me?" Mara asked.
"Yes."
The relief should have come. It didn't.
"Then why is she texting you now?" Her throat burned. "Why does it sound like you're still… unfinished?"
Julien hesitated.
That hesitation was everything.
"Because some things don't end cleanly," he said quietly. "And I didn't want to bring that mess into what we're building."
Her chest ached.
"So you decided to keep it from me instead."
"I was trying to protect you."
"That's not protection," she snapped. "That's control."
Silence fell between them, thick and painful.
Julien looked at her like he was seeing her fracture in real time. "I didn't touch her. I didn't even see her last night."
"But you thought about her," Mara said softly. "Enough to text her."
"No," he said immediately. "She texted me."
"And you replied."
"Yes."
The admission landed hard.
Mara set the phone down as though it burned her skin. "I can't do this," she whispered.
Julien's eyes widened. "Do what?"
"Feel like I'm waiting for you to choose," she said, voice breaking. "I already know how that ends."
He took a step closer. "I've already chosen."
Her laugh came out hollow. "Then why does it feel like I'm still competing with ghosts?"
"That's not fair," he said, hurt creeping into his tone.
"Neither is this," she replied. "You asked me for honesty. I gave it. And the first time I feel safe enough to stay, I find out I'm standing on unfinished ground."
Julien's shoulders slumped. "I didn't realize how much this would hurt you."
"That's the problem," she said. "You didn't realize. You decided for me."
The air between them felt sharp now.
"I can cut contact," he said quickly. "I'll block her. I'll do whatever you need."
Mara shook her head. "I don't want to police your life."
"Then what do you want?" he asked, frustration edging his voice.
She stared at him, tears blurring her vision. "I want to feel chosen without having to ask."
The words seemed to hit him harder than anything else she'd said.
Julien looked away, jaw clenched. "I'm human, Mara. I come with history."
"I know," she said. "So do I. That's why this hurts."
She turned away before he could see her cry.
"Mara," he said softly.
She stopped at the doorway but didn't turn back.
"I need space," she said. "Before I say something I can't take back."
He nodded slowly. "Okay."
The calmness of his response hurt more than anger would have.
She grabbed her coat, hands shaking, and left the apartment without another word.
The city felt colder than usual.
Mara walked without direction, letting the February wind bite at her cheeks until the sting drowned out the ache in her chest. Couples passed her laughing, holding hands, carrying flowers already displayed in shop windows.
Valentine's was everywhere.
She hated it.
She ducked into a small café to escape the cold, ordering coffee she barely tasted. Her phone buzzed repeatedly in her pocket.
Julien.
She didn't answer.
She needed silence more than reassurance.
Hours passed.
By the time she returned home, the apartment was dark.
Julien wasn't there.
A note sat on the counter.
I meant it when I said I'm not leaving.
But I hear that you need time.
I'll be back tomorrow.
—J
Her chest tightened.
She sank onto the couch, exhaustion settling into her bones.
She had wanted him to fight harder.
She had wanted him to stay.
But she was the one who had asked for space.
That night, she cried quietly into her pillow, mourning something that wasn't over but wasn't whole either.
Across the city, Julien sat alone in his car, phone in hand, rereading her last unread message.
He deleted the old contact at last.
But he knew too late that trust wasn't restored by erasing the past.
It was rebuilt by facing it together.
And right now, they weren't together.
February had finally drawn blood.