“I know.”
We lean against opposite sides of the counter.
The silence isn't awkward.
It's aware.
“I didn’t expect today to feel like that,” I say.
“Like what?”
“Real.”
He watches me closely.
“It doesn’t feel fake,” I continue. “That’s the part that caught me off guard.”
He exhales slowly.
“Yeah,” he says. “It doesn’t.”
I twist the ring on my finger.
“I thought I’d feel like I was playing a role,” I admit. “Like we were acting.”
“And?”
“And I don’t.”
He steps closer.
Not crowding.
Just closing distance.
“That scares you?”
“A little.”
“Why?”
“Because if it’s real, it can hurt.”
He doesn’t argue.
He doesn’t dismiss it.
He nods once.
“That’s fair.”
I look up at him.
“You?” I ask.
He gives a quiet huff of a laugh. “I’ve already done the hurt part once.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
