“So, are you going to give him a chance?” Cody asks, leaning back against the cutting table like this is casual conversation and not the emotional equivalent of defusing a bomb.
I pull a roll of ivory silk from the shelf and flop it onto the table a little harder than necessary.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “On one hand… I really want to. I love him. I always have.”
“But?” Lila prompts gently.
I exhale slowly and smooth my hands over the fabric.
“Let’s say I do,” I continue. “Let’s say I lower my shield and go back to being the girl who pined after the man who didn’t want her. What happens if he changes his mind again? What if I say something wrong? Do something he doesn’t like? What if he wakes up one day and decides I’m too much? Or not enough?”
Cody’s expression softens.
“I can’t survive another rejection from him,” I whisper. “I just can’t. The first time nearly broke me. The years after? That slow burn of him keeping me at arm’s length while I stood there loving him anyway? That did something to me.”
Lila steps closer, resting her hip against the table.
“But he’s not that man anymore,” she says.
“Isn’t he?” I shoot back. “Or is he just guilty?”
The room goes quiet.
“I don’t want to be someone’s guilt,” I add softly. “I don’t want to be the girl he chooses because something bad happened to me. I want to be the woman he chooses because he can’t imagine breathing without me.”
Cody tilts his head.
“And do you think that’s what this is?” he asks carefully.
I hesitate.
Because that’s the part that scares me most.
“When he looks at me now,” I admit, “it’s different. It’s not pity. It’s not guilt. It’s… hunger. Regret. Determination. Like he finally understands what he almost lost.”
“And that terrifies you,” Lila says.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Because if I let myself believe him… If I let myself fall all the way, and he changes his mind again?”
I shake my head.
“There won’t be anything left of me to pick up.”
Cody pushes off the table and walks around to stand in front of me.
“You’re not that girl anymore,” he says firmly. “You’re not the one who begs for scraps. You’re not the one waiting by the phone. You’ve built a business. A name. A life.”
Lila nods.
“And if he walks away this time,” she adds softly, “it won’t destroy you. It’ll hurt. It’ll wreck you for a while. But it won’t end you.”
I swallow hard.
“Love shouldn’t feel like a cliff,” I whisper.
“No,” Cody says. “But sometimes it feels like jumping. The difference is whether you trust the person at the bottom to catch you.”
“And do you?” Lila asks gently.
