She sat cross-legged on her apartment floor, Sunday afternoon stretching around her with the particular stillness that came from a weekend spent processing devastation. Her notebook was covered in her own handwriting—arguments with herself, circles around key phrases, arrows connecting Maddox's words Friday night to the story she'd told weeks ago about Leah.
“Just trauma bonding, never real love.”
Lies. All of it. Jade had seen Maddox's face when she'd said those words, had heard the desperation underneath. But knowing they were lies didn't erase the sting ofI love youspoken to a closing door. First time saying it, and Maddox had just stood there, frozen behind walls Jade couldn't reach.
Her ex's voice surfaced, unwelcome: “You're too much. You need too much. You feel too much.”
Jade wrote anothernoin the margin.
This wasn't about being too much. Maddox had never flinched from Jade's intensity or asked her to be less. Maddox had held her through Marcus's story without trying to fix it, had matched her vulnerability with her own, and had made Jade feel like her capacity for love was a strength instead of a burden.
Friday night was Maddox repeating the Leah pattern, getting scared and pushing away the person who loved her, her self-protection mechanism destroying what she needed most.
The weekend had been survival. On Saturday, she cried, slept, and stared at her phone, resisting the urge to text or show up at Maddox's door. Today felt different, clearer, the acute devastation settling into something she could examine without drowning in it.
She really only had two choices, both equally terrifying:
Step back, let Maddox have the space she’d demanded, and protect herself from getting hurt worse the next time Maddox’s fear got loud.
Or fight.
Jade closed her notebook and exhaled forcefully. Her tea had gone cold beside her, forgotten hours ago.
If she stepped back, she'd be confirming everything Maddox believed about herself. Another person who left when it got hard, another person who couldn't handle the walls, another person who gave up, just like Leah had eventually given up.
But if Jade fought—if she showed up and demanded better—Maddox had to meet her halfway. She had to acknowledge the hurt, had to choose differently than she'd chosen before.
Jade couldn’t fight for them alone.
She picked up her phone and pulled up Carla's contact. Her mentor had texted yesterday—”thinking of you, call whenyou're ready”—and Jade had ignored it. But she needed guidance now. She needed someone who'd been doing this work longer to help her see if fighting was brave or just stupid.
The phone rang twice before she answered. "Jade. How are you holding up?"
"I need help," Jade said. Her voice shook slightly. "I need to know if fighting for someone who pushed me away is the right thing, or if I'm about to make a huge mistake."
"Tell me what happened."
Jade told her everything: the relationship being exposed, Diana's meeting with Maddox, the fear response, Friday night's cruelty, the choice sitting in front of her now.
When she finished, Carla asked, "What does your gut tell you?"
"That she's worth fighting for and that if I walk away, I'm just confirming every terrible thing she believes about herself."
"And your heart?"
Jade closed her eyes. "That I love her…and I'm terrified. I don't know if love is enough when someone keeps destroying what you're trying to build."
"Love isn't enough," Carla said gently. "It never is. But love plus commitment to change? Love plus willingness to do the hard work? That can be."
"How do I know if she's willing?"
"You ask. You show up, you tell her what you need, and you see if she can meet you there. But, Jade, you can't do the work for her. You can fight for the relationship, but she has to fight too. Both of you or neither."
The words settled into Jade's chest, solid and true.
"There's also the professional complication," she said. "Diana called Maddox in her office about our relationship. That's what triggered Friday night."
"Is the professional situation resolvable?"
