Page 53 of Shattered

“Don’t answer now,” he said quickly. “I don’t want you to rush. Just think about it. About whether what we had is worth a second chance.”

He left before I could tell him I’d already been thinking about it.

The studio felt too quiet after he left. The mirrors reflected back multiple versions of me standing there alone, looking lost.

The subway ride home felt endless. I sat wedged between a guy with headphones bleeding bass and a woman with shopping bags that kept hitting my leg, staring at my phone’s dark screen. My reflection stared back—distorted, unfamiliar.

Jake’s words kept replaying.Whether what we had is worth a second chance.

Was it? Five years of history couldn’t just evaporate.

But then I thought about Axel. The way he’d held me on the balcony while I cried. How he’d pretended to be my dead father on the phone without hesitation. The tea that appeared without asking, dinners from my favorite restaurant. His quiet, steady presence—essential now, without me noticing when it happened.

My stop came too soon and not soon enough.

The first sight that greeted me as I pushed open my apartment door was Axel standing in my living room with a duffel bag open on the couch.

Packing.

My keys slipped from my fingers, clattering against the floor. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t look up from folding a shirt—the grey one that made his eyes look darker. His movements were rigid. “I think it’s time I go back to my place.”

“Why?” The word came out barely more than a whisper.

“You’re doing better. Your ankle’s healed. You don’t need me here anymore.” He placed the shirt in the duffel, smoothing out wrinkles that didn’t exist.

“Is this because of Jake?” My throat tightened, making it hard to breathe.

“This is because you need space to figure out what you want.” Another shirt. More careful folding. “Me being here is making that harder.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” He finally looked at me, and something in his expression made my chest ache. “You can’t make a clear decision with me here.”

“You’re not stopping me from deciding anything!” I moved closer, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

“Delia.” His voice was patient. Too patient—the kind of patience that felt like giving up. “I’m living in your apartment. Cooking your meals. Sleeping on your couch. Jake’s not entirely wrong about how that looks and as you said, I’m just helping out. But it looks like you’re already fine.”

My stomach dropped, cold and sudden. “You heard.”

“I was nearby. I thought to drive you home.” He went back to packing, pulling his laptop charger from the wall. The cord made a soft scraping sound. “Doesn’t matter. He has a point.”

“So what, you’re just leaving?” My voice was rising, getting sharp with something that felt like panic.

“I’m giving you space.”

“I don’t want space!”

“Then what do you want?” He froze, hands still on the duffel’s zipper. “Tell me. Right now. What do you want?”

The question hung there. Heavy. Demanding an answer I didn’t have. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. My mind was racing but my words were stuck, trapped somewhere between my brain and my tongue.

“I want…” I started, then stopped. My hands were shaking. I pressed them against my thighs to make it stop. What did I want? For everything to go back to before? For Axel to stay even though I couldn’t explain why it mattered? For someone to just tell me what the right choice was so I didn’t have to make it myself?

“That’s the problem.” Axel zipped the duffel with enough force that the sound cracked through the apartment. “You can’t tell me why you want me to stay, you can’t tell Jake to leave either. You’re keeping us both waiting while you decide, and I’m done with it.”

The words landed like slaps. “Done? What does that mean?”