Page 154 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

Not loud. Not harsh. Not even framed as something serious.

It was just placed… there.

Casual. Clean. Like it didn’t carry any sharpness at all.

I smiled.

Of course I did.

“Noted,” I said, a small laugh escaping me.

He smirked faintly, satisfied, already moving on. “It’s a joke,” he said—and it would’ve been enough. But then he added, almost as an afterthought, “But I’m just saying… you know, you should have standards.”

He shrugged.

And just like that, it passed.

Or at least, it looked like it did.

Because something on the surface, nothing changed. The light was still soft. The room was still quiet. Victor went back to his phone like the moment had already expired.

But something had settled in me, because it wasn’t really about the joke, it was how easily he said it. How naturally sharp words came to him—to agree, to add, to press just a little further without ever making it seem like he had.

And the worst part was, I didn’t even know how to respond to it without sounding… sensitive.

So I didn’t.

I let it go.

Like I always did.

But then the real ending began on the last day of that month.

That night didn’t arrive loudly.

It settled in. Quiet. Heavy. The kind of evening that felt like it was already carrying something before anything even happened.

Victor came home later than usual.

I heard the door unlock, the soft click echoing through the apartment.

I was already on the couch, with the TV on but barely watched. My phone rested face-down beside me, like I hadn’t been trying to check it every five minutes for a reply.

He stepped in, loosened his tie slightly, ran a hand through his hair. There was something in the way he moved—tight, controlled, like every motion was just a little too precise.

“Hey,” I said, sitting up a bit.

“Hey,” he replied, already walking past me.

No kiss. No pause. Just movement.

I watched him for a second, then stood, following him toward the kitchen.

“Long day?” I asked, keeping my voice light.

He exhaled through his nose. “You could say that.”

I leaned against the counter as he poured himself a glass of cold water, the silence stretching just enough to feel like it needed filling.