Distance
1328 Words
Elara woke up with a dull ache behind her eyes and a heavier one in her chest.
Hope was doing this to her. She knew it now. Hope was quieter than pain, but far more dangerous. It slipped in when she was tired, when she wanted to believe that maybe this time would be different.
She told herself she would not let it.
At work, she made a decision. A small one, but firm.
She would keep her distance.
No lingering glances. No reading into silences. No coffee invitations that meant nothing and everything at the same time. If Rowan had chosen restraint, then she would choose it too.
It felt like control. It felt like survival.
She greeted Maya with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes and buried herself in tasks that required focus. Numbers. Deadlines. Clear outcomes. Things that did not shift under her feet.
She did not look toward Rowan’s office.
She felt his presence anyway.
It was subtle at first. A pause in the air when she entered a room. A shift she sensed more than saw. She refused to acknowledge it.
By midday, she realized he had noticed.
He passed her desk without stopping. Once. Twice.
The third time, he hesitated.
“Elara.”
She did not look up. “I am in the middle of something.”
“So am I,” he said.
She glanced up then, cool and composed. “Then you should get back to it.”
Something flickered across his face. Surprise, maybe. Or irritation.
“This is what you want?” he asked quietly.
“What I want is not relevant,” she replied. “What you allowed made that clear.”
His jaw tightened. “That is not fair.”
“No,” she said evenly. “It is boundaries.”
He studied her for a long moment, like he was trying to recognize a version of her he had not expected.
“Lunch,” he said. “We should talk.”
She shook her head. “We have talked enough.”
“You are doing this on purpose.”
“Yes,” she said. “I am.”
She returned her attention to her screen, dismissing him without another word.
He walked away.
The space he left behind felt colder.
By afternoon, the distance sat between them like a third presence. Heavy. Intentional.
Elara hated how aware she was of him. How she still noticed when he laughed quietly at something a colleague said. How her body reacted before her mind could stop it.
She refused to let it show.
When a meeting was called late in the day, she took a seat at the far end of the table. Rowan sat near the head, all professionalism and restraint. He spoke clearly, efficiently, never once looking in her direction.
It should have helped.
It did not.
When the meeting ended, she gathered her things quickly. She was almost at the door when she felt it again. That pull. That awareness.
“Elara.”
She stopped but did not turn around.
“Please,” Rowan said. “Just for a moment.”
She sighed and faced him, keeping her expression neutral. “Make it quick.”
The room had emptied, leaving them alone with the low hum of the lights.
“You are shutting me out,” he said.
“Yes.”
“That is not what I meant when I said we needed distance.”
She laughed softly. “Of course it is not. You wanted control. I wanted clarity.”
“And this is clarity?” he asked.
“This is me accepting your choice,” she replied. “You said you cannot choose me. I am listening.”
His gaze sharpened. “That is not what I said.”
“It is what you meant.”
Silence stretched.
“I did not expect you to disappear,” he said finally.
“I did not disappear,” she replied. “I stopped reaching.”
His hands curled at his sides. “That feels like the same thing.”
“That is because you were used to me being available,” she said, then wished she had not. The truth lingered, exposed.
Rowan took a step closer. She did not move.
“You think I do not feel this?” he asked quietly.
“I think you feel plenty,” she said. “You just choose not to act on it.”
“For good reason.”
“Your reasons are not my responsibility,” she replied. “My heart is.”
The words hung between them.
Something in his expression cracked. Not fully. Just enough to let something raw through.
“You deserve someone who can choose you,” he said, his voice low. “Without hesitation.”
Her chest tightened. “Then let me find them.”
He looked at her like that thought hurt more than he expected.
“That is not what I meant,” he said.
“It is exactly what you meant,” she replied. “You just did not expect me to accept it.”
He was silent.
“Is there anything else?” she asked.
Rowan hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”
She nodded once and walked away.
This time, she did not look back.
That evening, Elara met Maya for dinner. The restaurant was warm and loud, filled with conversations that had nothing to do with heartbreak.
“You look calmer,” Maya observed after a moment.
“I decided to stop hoping,” Elara said.
Maya winced. “That is never a calm decision.”
“He said I deserve someone who can choose me.”
“And?”
“And I believe him,” Elara replied. “Even if he does not.”
Maya studied her. “Be careful. Sometimes people say that because they are afraid you will realize it on your own.”
Elara stirred her drink slowly. “I am tired of being almost chosen.”
“That is fair,” Maya said gently.
They talked about other things after that. Safer things. But Rowan lingered in Elara’s thoughts like a bruise she could not stop pressing.
Later that night, Elara stayed late again, finishing work she could not bring herself to take home. The office was quiet, lights dimmed.
She was gathering her things when she heard voices from the hallway.
Rowan’s voice.
“I cannot keep doing this,” he said.
Elara froze.
“You are the one creating the problem,” another voice replied. A man this time. Older. Firm.
“I am trying to prevent one,” Rowan said.
“By hurting her?”
Silence.
“That is not what I am doing,” Rowan said, but his voice lacked conviction.
“You are pushing her away because you are afraid of what choosing her would mean,” the man said. “That is not protection. That is cowardice.”
Elara’s heart pounded.
“You do not know the whole story,” Rowan replied sharply.
“I know enough,” the man said. “You lost someone once. That does not mean you get to punish the next person who comes close.”
Elara’s breath caught.
Lost someone.
Rowan did not speak for a long moment.
Then, quietly, he said, “If I choose her and it ends the same way, I will not survive it.”
The words settled like a weight.
Elara stepped back before she could be discovered, her pulse racing as she left the office.
Outside, the night air felt sharp against her skin.
He was not rejecting her because she was not enough.
He was rejecting her because loving him once had cost someone everything.
And whatever had happened before was still controlling him.
As she walked home, one thought repeated itself, steady and terrifying.
Distance was not pushing them apart.
It was pulling something dangerous closer.
- Writer
