"But I want to try." Something vulnerable breaking through the hurt. "If you want to. I want to see if we can fix this."
Wait... what?
The relief I'd been expecting—the clean break, the mature ending—evaporated.
"You want to fix this?" I asked, confused.
"I know it's stupid." She wiped her face. "But I can't stop thinking that maybe if we actually try—really try—we could make it work."
No. This wasn't how this was supposed to go.
I'd come here planning to end it. To be honest about not being ready and let her move on.
But she was crying. Looking at me with hope and hurt tangled together. And I'd just said cruel things that made her feel small.
"Emily—"
"Not like before." She took a breath. Steadied herself. "I'm not saying we're back together. Not officially. Just... dating. Seeing where it goes. No pressure. No labels. Just us trying to figure out if this can work."
The smart thing would be to say no.
But the guilt was eating through my chest, and she was looking at me like I had the power to fix what I'd broken.
"Okay," I heard myself say.
Relief crossed her face. Hope.
It made everything worse.
"Yeah," I said. "Okay. We can try."
"I need you to be honest with me. Really honest. If you can't do that, this won't work."
I nodded. Forced myself to hold her eyes.
"I can do that."
The lie sat heavy on my tongue.
Emily looked at me for a long moment. Then nodded. Small. Reluctant but accepting.
I closed the distance between us and put my arms around her.
Not her idea—mine. Out of guilt and wanting to fix what I'd just broken with my words.
Her arms stayed at her sides for a beat. Then slowly—reluctantly—they came up around me.
She held on tight, like she was trying to hold something that kept slipping through her fingers.
She was shaking slightly. Still crying. My fault.
I pulled back enough to see her face. Red eyes. Blotchy cheeks.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I really am."
She searched my face for something. Truth, maybe. Proof that I meant it.
I kissed her.
