My hand steadies slightly. I sit on the edge of my bed and take a slow breath. If he's scared, then I need to show him he doesn't have to be. Not of me, not of us, not of whatever line he thinks we crossed that can't be uncrossed.
Renewed with determination, I open a new message.
Me: Good morning, Dr. Mercer. I wanted to check in. I'm safe today. Thank you for our honest conversation yesterday.
I stare at the words. They feel too neat for the chaos inside me, but that's the point. Stability is seductive in a different way. It's what he can't ethically abandon.
I read it ten times, adjusting tiny things like punctuation, spacing, and tone until it feels like something he can't misinterpret as a trap. Then, before I lose the nerve, I hit send.
I set the phone on my thigh and wait.
At first, nothing happens. Minutes pass in silence. Time twists into a hot coil of dread tightening around my ribs. My hands start shaking again.
What if he's showing it to a colleague right now?
What if he's asking for advice on how to cut me off "safely"?
What if he's drafting the message?
What if yesterday changed nothing?
What if yesterday changed everything?
I curl forward, pressing my forehead to my knees, whispering, "Please choose me. Please don't leave me. Please?—"
My phone vibrates.
My breath stops.
I freeze, afraid to move. Then I force myself upright and grab the phone so tightly it creaks.
His name is on the lock screen.
My pulse detonates. I swipe the notification open with my thumb. My hand trembles so violently that I almost miss the message entirely.
Red: Thank you for checking in, Blue. I'm…still thinking.
Still thinking. Not goodbye, rejection, or dismissal.
A dizzy warmth rushes through me, thick and sweet, unraveling the panic coiled in my chest.
He's not ending us.
I sink back against the pillows, eyes closed, clutching the phone to my chest like a heartbeat. I mutter, "You're not going to say goodbye. You can't. You just admitted it."
A slow, dark satisfaction curls low inside me. Because now, I know exactly what to do and how to pull him closer.
He's going to choose the thing he's terrified to want.
He's still thinking?
Good.
I'll make sure he thinks about nothing else.
When he finally gives me an appointment time and invites me into his office, he'll sit across from me, trying to pretend he's still the steady one. But I'll know one thing with absolute certainty.
I followed him home. Now, he'll never escape me.
