I shouldn't have noticed it.
That shift.
That quiet… something.
But I did.
And now I couldn't un-feel it.
So I looked away.
Fast.
Like it would disappear if I didn't look at it directly.
Alex didn't say anything.
Of course he didn't.
He never rushed into silence like other people did. Never filled it just to make it easier.
He just… waited.
And somehow that made everything louder.
I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through my hair.
"I don't even know what I'm doing anymore," I muttered.
"That makes two of us," he replied.
I glanced at him.
That wasn't what I expected.
"What does that mean?"
He shrugged slightly, but his jaw was tight.
"It means I've been watching you tear yourself apart for years over someone who—" he stopped.
Something in his expression shifted.
Like he almost said too much.
My chest tightened.
"Say it," I said quietly.
He looked at me properly then.
Not careful. Not soft.
Just honest.
"It means he never deserved the version of you that you gave him."
The words landed heavier than I thought they would.
Not because they were dramatic.
Because they were simple.
And true in a way I wasn't ready to deal with.
I looked down again, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve.
"You don't know that," I said, but my voice didn't sound convincing.
Alex let out a small breath.
"I know enough."
Silence slipped in again.
But this time it wasn't suffocating.
Just… uncomfortable.
Real.
I shifted slightly, trying to shake off the feeling crawling under my skin.
"I hate this," I said suddenly.
"Which part?"
"All of it," I replied. "Him. Her. This house. The fact that I still…" I stopped.
Still what?
Care?
Feel something?
Hate how much it mattered?
I pressed my lips together.
"Still what?" Alex asked quietly.
I shook my head.
"Nothing."
A lie.
He knew it.
I knew it.
But neither of us pushed it further.
Instead, he stepped closer.
Not invading.
Just… closer.
"You don't have to pretend in front of me," he said.
Something about that irritated me.
Not him.
Just… the truth in it.
"I'm not pretending," I snapped, a little too fast.
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
"Really?"
That tone—
Not mocking.
Just calling me out.
And suddenly, I was tired again.
So tired of holding things in.
"Fine," I said, exhaling sharply. "I still care, okay? Happy?"
The words came out harsher than they needed to.
Alex didn't react the way I expected.
He didn't look disappointed.
Or annoyed.
He just nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "That sounds about right."
I blinked.
"That's it?"
"What were you expecting?" he asked.
"I don't know," I muttered. "A lecture. A 'you deserve better.' Something."
He shook his head.
"You already know that," he said. "Saying it again won't magically fix anything."
That… made sense.
Annoyingly.
I let out a slow breath and leaned back against the edge of the table behind me.
"I hate that I still care," I admitted, quieter this time.
"Of course you do," Alex replied. "You don't just switch feelings off because someone turns out to be an idiot."
A small, unexpected laugh slipped out of me.
Idiot.
That was… new.
And weirdly satisfying.
Alex noticed.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"There it is," he said.
"What?"
"That sound," he replied. "You haven't laughed like that in a while."
I rolled my eyes lightly, but it didn't have much energy behind it.
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late."
The word slipped out of him easily.
Too easily.
And for a second—
We both felt it.
That shift again.
Quieter this time.
Closer.
I looked at him.
Really looked.
And suddenly I was very aware of how close he was standing.
Closer than before.
Close enough that I could see the small details—the way his hair fell slightly out of place, the faint shadow along his jaw, the tension he wasn't fully hiding.
My breath caught slightly.
I looked away again.
Bad idea.
Focus.
Focus.
"This doesn't change anything," I said, more to myself than to him.
"What doesn't?" he asked.
"This," I gestured vaguely between us, immediately regretting it. "Whatever this is."
There was a pause.
Then—
"You think I don't know that?" Alex said quietly.
I looked back at him.
Something in his voice had changed.
Not louder.
Just… deeper.
More serious.
"I'm not trying to replace him, Luna," he continued. "If that's what you're worried about."
My chest tightened again.
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
Silence.
But not the same kind as before.
This one felt… heavier.
Charged.
I swallowed.
"I just don't want things to get… complicated," I said carefully.
His gaze didn't leave mine.
"They already are."
That hit harder than it should have.
Because he was right.
Again.
I let out a breath and shook my head slightly.
"This is not the time," I said.
"For what?"
I hesitated.
Then forced it out.
"For anything… like this."
The words hung between us.
Clear.
Necessary.
And still—
Something about them didn't feel final.
Alex watched me for a long moment.
Then nodded once.
"Okay," he said.
Just that.
No argument.
No pressure.
And somehow that made it worse.
Because part of me expected him to push.
To insist.
To make it easier to reject.
But he didn't.
He just… accepted it.
Like he always did.
I looked away again, my chest feeling tight for a completely different reason now.
"Thank you," I muttered.
"For what?"
"For not making this harder."
A pause.
Then, softer—
"I'm not the one who made it hard in the first place."
That landed deeper than anything else he'd said.
Because it wasn't angry.
It wasn't bitter.
It was just… honest.
I closed my eyes for a second.
God.
Everything felt too much.
Too fast.
Too real.
When I opened them again, I took a small step back.
Space.
I needed space.
"I think I need to get out of here," I said.
Alex nodded immediately.
"Yeah," he said. "You probably do."
I grabbed my phone from the table.
It was quiet now.
No new calls.
No messages.
Good.
For once.
I turned toward the door—
Then stopped.
Because something in me hesitated.
Just for a second.
I glanced back at him.
He was still there.
Watching.
Not stopping me.
Not holding me back.
Just… there.
And that feeling came back again.
That quiet, unfamiliar thing.
Not pain.
Not anger.
Something else.
Something I didn't have a name for yet.
I looked away before it could grow.
"Come on," I said, my voice softer now. "Before I change my mind."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"Yeah," he replied. "Let's go."
And this time—
When I walked away—
I didn't feel like I was running.
I felt like I was leaving something behind.
Even if I didn't fully understand what yet.