“Aarontoldme what was best for me. You're—” She stood up abruptly, pacing to the window. “I'm asking for your opinion because I trust you. Because I care what you think.”
“And what if what I think is wrong for you?”
“That's not—” She stopped, shaking her head. “You're not... God, you're not even listening to me.”
“Iamlistening.”
“No.” She turned back toward me, arms wrapping around herself. “No, you're not. You're just— You're shutting me out. Just like he did.”
Something cold twisted in my stomach. “I'm nothing like Aaron.”
“Aren't you?” The words came out too loud, then she seemed to catch herself. “I mean— He made me feel small by telling me what I should want all the time. And now you're making me feel small by refusing to tell meanythingat all.”
“That's not—” I started, then stopped. Ran a hand over my face. “It's not the same thing.”
“It feels the same.” She stepped closer, and I could see her hands shaking slightly. “It feels like I'm completely alone in this decision. Like you don't even care enough to have an opinion about whether I?—”
“Of course I care.” I stood up, needing to move, but there wasn't anywhere to go in the small space.
“Thenactlike it.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “In a healthy relationship, partners are supposed to talk about big decisions. They share their thoughts and their fears and hopes. They don't just shut each other out.”
“I'm trying to protect you.”
“Fromwhat? From knowing how you feel?”
I dragged both hands through my hair, frustration building like pressure in my chest. “From making the wrong choice for the wrong reasons.”
“What if knowing your feelings helps me make therightchoice?”
“What if it doesn't?”
We stared at each other across the small living room. Pudding whined softly from his spot on the floor, picking up on the tension crackling between us.
Rosie's face crumpled slightly. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Do you even want me to stay?”
The question hit me like a physical blow. My chest felt like it was caving in, ribs pressing against my lungs.
“Do you honestly believe there's any part of me that wants to watch you drive away?”
Her breath caught. The raw honesty in my voice seemed to surprise both of us.
“Cal...”
“I won't tell you what to choose.” The words came out unsteady, like I was fighting for each one. “But I won't pretend I wouldn't feel it if you left. Won't pretend this doesn't matter.”
The silence stretched between us, heavy and loaded. Rosie's eyes searched my face, and I could see the exact moment my words sank in—the way her shoulders dropped, the breath she released like she'd been holding it for days.
I watched her wrap her arms around herself, suddenly looking lost in the middle of my living room. Like she was still waiting for something I couldn't figure out how to give her.
“I think...” She glanced toward the door, then back at me. “I think I need to go home. Think about all of this.”
“I'll walk you out.”
She shook her head quickly. “No, it's okay. I can?—”
“Rosie.” I kept my voice gentle. “Let me walk you out.”
