Then, bit by bit, I began to untangle myself from him. Each limb felt weighted, each centimetre of distance a betrayal.
He stirred almost immediately, his body instinctively searching for mine. “Lillian?” His voice was gravel, thick with worry. “What’s wrong? Where are you going?”
I bent down, picking my clothes up off the floor one by one, mechanically, as though detachment were a muscle I could train if I moved slowly enough.
Sheets rustled behind me; his footsteps followed. “Hey,” he said, “talk to me. What’s wrong?”
I pulled my shirt over my head and straightened, still refusing to face him. If I looked at him, I’d break. If I saw his face—those eyes that had the power to undo every wall I’d ever built—I’d lose my nerve. So I kept my gaze fixed on the door and said, “I’m leaving.”
“What? Leaving where?”
The silence stretched thin until it hurt to stand inside it. Slowly, I turned to face him. That was all it took—just one look. Iwatched it happen in real time, the realization settling across his face like a shadow.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “You said you forgave me.”
“I lied.”
His eyes widened, his mouth parting as if to speak, but no words came. Then, “What do you mean you lied?”
I swallowed, but my throat felt raw. “I mean...Ilied. I don’t know if I can—”
I stopped, watching the panic spread across his features, erasing every layer of calm.
“Lillian,” he breathed, “I am so sorry. I thought you understood why I—”
“I do understand,” I said, cutting him off. “But it stillhurts, Khalifa. You can’t expect me to move past it overnight just because you have an explanation.” I swallowed, my vision clouding over. “If you had just been honest with me,” I continued quietly, “if you’d told me what was really going on...we could’vetalkedabout it. I could’ve helped you figure a way out, I mean—” My voice cracked before I could stop it. “I really think I could’ve handled the truth.”
The words hung there, fragile and trembling.
“But finding out like this,” I went on, “with her showing up here, blindsiding me—having to stand there and watch you with the woman who had you first, whostillhas you—”
“She doesn’t have me,” he said desperately. “Lillian, I amyours.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
It did matter.
Of course, it mattered.
“I need to think,” I said, backing up a step. “I just...I need some space.”
He stared at me, chest rising unevenly. “But...I love you.”
“I love you, too. That’s the problem. I can’t think straight when I’m around you. It overshadows everything else—every rational thought, every part of me that knows I should be angry.”
He didn’t speak. Neither of us did. The silence stood between us, delicate as breath on glass—one wrong word and it would shatter.
Then—so slow I might’ve dreamt it—a tear slid down his cheek. It caught the faint morning light as it fell, a wounded confession born from what his voice couldn’t carry. I’d never seen him come apart like that. Not when his mother died, not when he spoke of his father’s cruelty, not even when he bared the loneliest corners of his childhood.
And still, here he was, unraveling at the very thought of losing me, his love so fierce it stripped him of every defense he’d ever built to survive this world. Was that what love was meant to do? Break a person open until there was nothing left but truth? And if it was...then what did that make me—the one standing here, watching him fall apart, knowing I was the reason his heart was getting torn to shreds?
I reached out, my thumb brushing the tear from his cheek. “I’m sorry. I just need time.”
He shook his head instantly. “I’m not letting you go.”
“You will,” I said softly. “Because you’re not the type of man who’d ever force me to stay when I’ve asked for space.”
He didn’t like it. There was a storm of helplessness and pain brewing behind his eyes. But he knew I was right. He knew he could never do that to me.
