Ash:
Hart, I’m sorry. I was wrong. About everything.
Still nothing.
Another text:
Ash:
You told me you loved me and I said nothing. I haven’t stopped thinking about that moment since.
I stare at the screen.
Nothing goes through.
No blue checks. No “read.” No reply.
Then the realization lands like a punch in the ribs:
She blocked me.
Of course she did.
Why wouldn’t she?
She trusted me. Let me in. Said the scariest thing a person can say—and I froze.
I let her walk away without so much as a fight.
My fingers hover over her contact one last time. I don’t think. I don’t rehearse. I hit the call button and wait for it to go to voicemail. It does.
And when the beep sounds, I speak.
***
The sun is already high the next morning, but it feels like the day hasn’t started.
Because I haven’t heard from her.
I didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. Every hour felt like another reason to believe I’d ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. That my voice message went straight into the void. That I waited too long to be brave.
But I’m not giving up. Not yet.
Which is how I end up outside Liam’s apartment for the second time in a week, fists shoved in my pockets, heart pounding like it knows I don’t deserve what I’m about to ask.
I stare at his door for a long second. Then I knock—firm, but not aggressive. I’m not here to fight this time.
I’m here to beg.
There’s movement behind the door. A pause. Then the slow scrape of the chain lock, and the door creaks open an inch.
Liam’s face appears in the crack. His expression is a mix of sleep deprivation, suspicion, and mild annoyance.
“Seriously?” he says. “Is this part of some slow psychological breakdown?”
“Olive blocked me,” I say.
His expression doesn’t change.
