He turned back toward me, eyes dark.
“You’re the only person I can tell this to.”
He leaned in, forehead touching mine again, and for a moment neither of us said anything.
He kissed me, slow and heavy, like he was trying to forget the world outside this room.
“You gonna be okay?” I asked softly.
He smirked, but it didn’t feel real. “I don’t have a choice.”
I sat up.
He stood, pulled on sweatpants, and headed toward the bathroom.
I followed him out of habit.
Steam filled the glass walls as we showered quietly, the kind of silence that felt more intimate than conversation.
Finally, I said it.
“I know you are going through something, but… We can’t keep doing this.”
He laughed low. “Doing what?”
“This sneaking around. I got a life outside of you now.”
“You’re right,” he said quietly.
That was it.
No fight. No argument. Just acceptance.
And somehow that hurt worse, but I still stayed in that room with him, proving I was lying to myself.
After we got dressed, I curled up back in bed while he worked at the table, laptop open, coffee beside him. Like nothing had happened.
Eventually, exhaustion won, and I drifted off.
When I woke up, he was gone.
Breakfast waited for me, warm under a silver cover.
And a note.
My stomach dropped when I saw my name in his handwriting.
I didn’t wanna read it.
But I did.
Naomi,
I know you want distance.
I know you want your new life without me.
I’m trying to let go of everything that used to belong to me.
