Jessica's POV
We started talking again.
Not every day… but often enough.
About life. About moods. About random things.
And somehow, every conversation—no matter how casual it started—ended up going deep.
Too deep.
We were careful on the surface, acting like nothing mattered anymore.
But underneath—
We kept crossing lines.
Misleading each other.
I acted like I didn't want him anymore.
Like I had moved on.
But the truth was… I didn't even want to understand my own feelings.
I was denying everything.
Because every time I talked to him—
The memories came back.
The feelings.
The desire.
Everything.
And I couldn't control it.
That's when I realized something that hit me hard—
I was being unfair.
To Sam.
I was still in a relationship… still holding onto a promise.
And yet, a part of me was somewhere else.
With someone else.
And that wasn't right.
I started regretting things too.
Especially sharing my past with Sam.
Because now, every argument—
He used it.
Like a weapon.
He would bring it up, shut me down, make me feel small.
He insulted me so many times.
And still—
I forgave him.
Gave him chances.
Again and again.
But nothing changed.
He would say sorry…
And then repeat the same thing.
Slowly, our relationship started breaking.
And in that gap—
My feelings for Johnathan came back.
Stronger.
And I was stuck.
Between feelings… and responsibility.
I respected Sam.
I really did.
But he kept letting me down.
In the beginning, he was different.
Caring.
Understanding.
But after five or six months—
Everything changed.
He stopped trying.
Stopped giving time.
Started forcing his choices on me instead of understanding mine.
I asked him so many times to go out, to spend time together.
But he barely did.
And even when he did—
He seemed distant.
One day, he finally said it.
"I tried to be the person you like… but I can't forget what you had with Johnathan."
"I acted like it didn't matter… but it hurts. And I can't accept it."
I was stunned.
Because I had told him everything from the beginning.
So he could choose.
Accept or leave.
But he stayed—
And now he was punishing me for it.
That broke something inside me.
After that, nothing felt normal.
We argued more.
Talked less.
And every time—
My past became the reason.
That's when I made a decision.
I had to stop talking to Johnathan.
Because no matter how I justified it—
It felt like cheating.
So one day, I texted him.
"Hey… listen. What we're doing right now isn't right."
"What thing?" he replied.
"This… us talking. It's not right. Too much has happened to call it friendship. And there's no label for what we had either."
"We are nothing now. And I'm in a committed relationship. So we shouldn't talk anymore."
He replied simply—
"Okay. If that's what you want."
I said goodbye.
And blocked him again.
This time… not out of anger.
But to do the right thing.
I tried to fix things with Sam.
Tried to be better.
Tried to make our relationship stronger.
But nothing changed.
So I thought—
Maybe marriage would fix everything.
Maybe commitment would make things stable.
So I told him—
"We should get married."
He replied,
"We're not established yet."
"But you said we'd get married after college," I said. "You said your family would accept."
He hesitated.
"I thought that… but my dad won't understand. He wants me to marry at 30."
I stared at him.
"Are you serious? You just accepted that?"
"At least try to convince him."
"I can't," he said. "I don't even earn. How will I take care of you? My family won't accept now."
"So when will you be ready?" I asked.
"I don't know."
"I don't know the future."
That answer—
It broke whatever hope I had left.
Because everyone has some idea of their future.
But he had nothing to give me.
Not even a timeline.
After that, fights became constant.
I wanted certainty.
He wasn't ready.
And I was stuck again—
Between my heart and my mind.
Then one evening—
I did something I shouldn't have.
I called Johnathan.
After so many months.
My hands were shaking.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Nearby… why?" his voice sounded concerned.
It was around 9 PM.
"Can you come? I want to talk."
"Okay… where?"
"Near the road."
"I'm coming."
And he did.
Within minutes.
We met.
Face to face.
After everything.
We talked.
For two hours.
My mom kept calling me, asking where I was.
"I'm coming," I said.
But I didn't leave.
Not yet.
Because he kept talking.
Like he had been holding everything inside for so long.
And I just listened.
Quietly.
Until it was 11 PM.
I had to go.
I said goodbye.
But he didn't want me to leave either.
Because for those two hours—
It felt like nothing had changed.
And maybe that was the most dangerous part of all.