Silence stretches between us.
The realization crashes over me slowly.
He didn’t look happy.
He looked numb.
My heart squeezes painfully.
“I told him to prove it,” Susan admits quietly. “If he truly loved you.”
Tears slide down my face again.
“You don’t get to decide that for us,” I whisper.
“No,” she agrees. “But I get to protect my intern.”
I let out a broken breath.
“I didn’t ask to be protected.”
“No,” she says gently. “But you deserved to be.”
I press my palms into my eyes again.
“I feel like my soul got ripped out of my chest,” I whisper. “Like I lost something I didn’t even know I could lose.”
Susan rests a hand on my knee.
“You loved him,” she says.
“I still do.”
The words slip out before I can stop them.
And that’s the worst part.
Because even after seeing him at that bar and watching him let me walk away…
My heart hasn’t caught up to my pride.
Susan studies me carefully.
“You need to decide,” she says softly, “whether you want a career without him or a fight with him.”
I let out a shaky breath.
For the first time since Friday night, I understand something clearly.
He didn’t walk away because he didn’t love me.
He walked away because he thought it was the only way to save me.
And somehow, that hurts even more.
By the timeI get home, the sadness has burned itself out.
What’s left behind isn’t heartbreak.
