“I need some time to think about this,” I said.
He held still, then nodded. “I understand.”
“And while I’m doing that,” I continued carefully, “please don’t reach out to me. This triggered something bigger than just tonight. And I need a little time to sort out what is reasonable to be upset about here, and what my body is reacting to because it’s working off old information.”
The words were heavy as they left my mouth.
“I’ll contact you if I decide I want to talk.”
He absorbed that quietly. “Okay.”
The regret on his face had deepened. The apology was still there too. And underneath both of those sat something that looked dangerously close to heartbreak.
Guilt moved through my chest immediately. Old, fast, familiar guilt. The kind that wanted me to smooth this over before his expression could turn into something I would feel responsible for.
I pushed it down.
This boundary mattered.
“I’m not saying this to punish you,” I said.
“I know.”
“I just need space.”
“It’s okay, Zoey. I understand.”
He stayed where he was. No bargaining. No attempt to explain himself again. No pressure. It only made it harder to ignore that this was not the same kind of situation my body was reacting to. Not the same kind of person either. Just a real mistake from someone I trusted. A line crossed by someone who actually cared that he had crossed it.
“Goodnight, Zoey.”
He stood and walked toward the stairwell.
I stayed where I was while he descended the stairs.
For a moment, it looked like he might stop, but he didn’t.
“BAD DOG. INTRUDER.”
Picking up my shoes, I went into my apartment. I stopped just inside the doorway and looked around. Nothing appeared disturbed. The lights were still on in the living room. My laptop sat on the desk where I had left it earlier that morning. The stack of packages that had been outside my door had been moved inside and lined up neatly along the wall. Very neatly.
My gaze shifted across the room.
The large box with the office chair was gone. Instead, the chair itself sat at my desk, fully assembled. The height had been adjusted. The plastic wrapping had been folded into a tidy square and placed beside the recycling bin.
I stared at it.
Liam had assembled my furniture while he waited for the police. Of course he had.
A small ache settled in my chest before I could stop it.
The flowers and chocolate were sitting on my kitchen counter, and a note rested between the stems.
I didn’t open it.
The chair sat quietly behind me at the desk, ready to use.
After a minute, I pulled out my phone and typed a message.
