NotAre you seeing Jace again?
NotWhat’s going on with Sierra?
Just a simple ‘You okay?’.
I consider lying. It would be easy. Automatic.
Instead, I shrug. “I’m… fine. I think.”
Ellie hums softly. “That sounds… complicated.”
“It is,” I admit. “But not wrong.”
She nods like that makes sense. “Those are different things.”
The tension in my shoulders eases a fraction.
“I’m trying to do things the right way,” I add, unsure why I feel the need to justify it. “Not rush or make decisions just because something feels right at the moment.”
Ellie’s gaze stays steady. “You don’t owe anyone clarity before you’re ready.”
I blink at her.
“You’re allowed to take your time,” she continues. “You’re allowed to protect your peace. That doesn’t make you cruel or selfish.”
Something in my chest loosens at that.
“I just don’t want to hurt anyone,” I say quietly.
Ellie gives a small, knowing smile. “Then you’re already doing better than you think.”
She doesn’t push or pry, doesn’t ask for names or explanations. She already knows who I mean, and she doesn’t take sides I didn’t ask her to take.
She just sits with me for a moment, grounded and present, and then stands.
“I’m here if you need me,” she says. “For whatever.”
After she leaves, I sit back in my chair and breathe
I feel calm and capable, grounded in the belief that I’m doing this the right way.
I have no idea how fragile that certainty is.
I turn back to my computer and let myself sink into the familiar rhythm of work. There are emails to answer, approvals to give, details that need my attention. Things I can solve. Things that respond when I apply pressure in the right places.
That matters more than I want to admit.
The rest of the day moves smoothly, almost too smoothly, and I take it as confirmation that I’m doing this right. That boundaries don’t have to feel sharp or painful to be effective. That restraint can be quiet and still hold.
When my phone lights up late in the afternoon, my pulse spikes out of habit before I see the name.
Jace’s name lights up my phone while I’m answering emails, and I pause for half a second before smiling and picking up.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” he replies. His voice sounds even, familiar. Not distant, but steady. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Just checking in.”
The tension I didn’t realize I was carrying eases a little. “I’m glad you called.”
