When our eyes met, a tingle spread through my chest and down my arms as I held her. The entire room had faded away. It was just the two of us—her body secure in my arms, her breath slightly uneven, her eyes locked with mine.
I had seen it then.
The disappointment in her eyes—the exact moment Stephanie’s voice called my name and shattered whatever fragile connection had formed between us.
That look had stayed with me long after we left the restaurant.
I had seen the same expression earlier at the hospital too, though she had tried to hide it. When she rushed through those triage doors and threw herself into my arms, clinging to me as if she were afraid I might disappear, something inside me twisted. Her blotchy face and teary eyes had shaken me.
I had hated seeing her like that.
More than that, I had hated knowing I was the reason for it.
Standing there in that hospital room with her trembling against me, I had realized the truth.
I loved her.
The realization didn’t hit me like a bolt. It clicked into place, like the final tiles completing a mosaic I’d been studying for months. It grew quietly, like roots spreading beneath the surface.
But that day, it had finally hit me straight in the face.
The thought of losing her—or her losing me—had forced the truth to the surface.
And once I saw it, I could not unsee it.
No matter what I was doing, I could not stop thinking about her.
When I was clicking pictures through my camera lens, I caught myself imagining how the light would fall across her face. When I painted in the quiet of my apartment, the colours somehow reminded me of the warmth of her skin and the softness of her smile. Even when I cooked dinner alone in my kitchen, I found myself remembering the way she moved around her house—Emma on her hip, Lucas trailing behind her, laughter filling the space around them.
Her kindness.
Her generosity.
Her strength.
The way she carried the weight of her life without ever asking anyone for help.
All of it made me want her even more.
By the time I dropped Stephanie off in the city, the decision in my mind had already been made.
Before she got out of the car, I turned to her.“Thanks again,” I said sincerely. “For helping me with… all of this.”
“Just don’t mess it up now,” Stephanie said with a small laugh before stepping out.
I watched her disappear into the building before driving away.
The road ahead was quiet.
And for the first time in days, my thoughts felt clear.
I knew what I had to do.
It was time to stop playing games—trying to make Jiya jealous, trying to push her into confronting her feelings—had gone on long enough.
Tomorrow, I will talk to her.
And this time, I was not walking away without the truth.
