I think of the bear attack. The hospital. They’ve been through hell and back, and somehow came out stronger on the other side.
Maybe that’s what real love looks like.
“As long as you’re happy,” I comment.
“I am. Beyond happy. Which is why I’m telling you to stop sabotaging yourself and figure out your mess with Corin.” She pauses. “You deserve what Marco and I have, Amara. You deserve someone who brings you coffee and memorizes your routine and fucks you senseless.”
I immediately blush at that last part.
“Seriously, Amara,” Jess says, her voice softening. “Don’t run this time. He’s not the villain you needed him to be.”
We hang up.
But her words echo in my head long after we say goodbye.
He’s not the villain you needed him to be.
Because that’s the truth, isn’t it?
I needed Corin to be the bad guy. Needed him to be complicit and cold and morally bankrupt. Because if he was the villain, then I was justified in walking away. In building my walls. In choosing anger over vulnerability.
But if he’s not a villain, then what?
Then I have to reckon with my own role in how we ended up.
And I have to admit that maybe I left too quickly. Maybe I didn’t ask enough questions. Maybe I was so terrified of being used and betrayed that I saw threats where there were none.
Maybe you’ve been protecting yourself so hard you forgot how to let anyone in.
The thought sits in my chest like a deposition exhibit I can’t refute.
I open the patio and go back onto the terrace.
I sit on the concrete.
Before we had sex four weeks ago, I told him I was thinking“about how much time we wasted.”
I stare out at the dark ocean, listening to the waves, and let myself sit with the uncomfortable truth.
I contributed to this. To us falling apart five years ago. To the distance between us now.
To the time we wasted.
Corin made mistakes. Absolutely. He chose silence when he should have fought harder to tell me the truth, even if it cost him.
But I made mistakes, too.
I assumed the worst.
Refused to listen.
Walked away without giving him a chance to explain.
Wouldn’t have listened even if he had.
And now here we are, five years later, still dancing around each other like opposing counsel who are terrified to settle.
So what are you going to do about it?
