Five Years Later, He Still Wants Me

Chapter 6:The Distance Between Us

The Distance Between Us

I woke up the next morning determined to forget everything that had happened the night before. The kiss still lived on my lips and in my chest, but I told myself it had been a mistake and that I would never allow it to happen again. I moved through my apartment with careful purpose and avoided looking at my phone for as long as I could because I knew there was a chance he had sent a message. Curiosity eventually won. I picked up the phone and found one short line from him asking if I was okay. I read the words several times and then locked the screen without replying. Answering would only open a door I had already decided to keep closed.

I went through the rest of the day trying to behave as if nothing had shifted inside me. I answered emails and sat through meetings and smiled when people spoke to me, yet the effort felt heavier than usual. The project forced us into the same room again that afternoon. When I arrived, he was already seated at the table with his notes open and his expression calm. I expected him to bring up the kiss the moment we were alone but he never did. He greeted me the same way he greeted everyone else and then turned his attention to the discussion as if the night before had never existed. His complete professionalism irritated me more than any confrontation would have. I had prepared myself for tension and for questions and for the intensity I had felt when he kissed me. Instead, he gave me nothing and the absence left me unsettled.

During the meeting he barely looked in my direction. Every time his eyes passed over me, they moved on without lingering and I found myself watching him more than the presentation. The distance he maintained made me realize I wanted his attention again and the realization made me angry with myself. I had asked for space. I had called the kiss a mistake. I had no right to feel disappointed when he finally gave me exactly what I claimed to want. Still, the quiet way he kept himself apart reached under my skin and stayed there.

When the meeting ended, I gathered my things quickly and headed for the door. He spoke my name before I could leave and asked if I was avoiding him. I denied it even though the truth sat clear between us. He studied my face for a moment and then told me he would not force anything. If I truly wanted distance, he would respect it. The words should have brought relief. Instead, they landed with a dull ache I did not expect. I asked him why he had kissed me if he was so willing to let me go. He answered that wanting me and respecting me were two different things. I had no reply ready for that direct honestly.

He reminded me that I had called the kiss a mistake. I said that it was. He looked at me for a long quiet second and then spoke in a voice that held no anger and no demand.

“Then I will not make you regret it.”

He walked away without waiting for an answer and left me standing in the empty room with my thoughts spinning. The restraint in his voice and the calm way he had given me exactly what I asked for affected me more deeply than any push would have. I stayed there longer than I meant to before I finally left the building.

That evening, the quiet of my apartment felt too large. I realized I missed him and the admission made me hate myself because I was the one who had demanded the distance. The memory of the kiss returned with all its tenderness and heat and I found myself questioning whether calling it a mistake had really been about the kiss itself or about the fear of what loving him again might cost me. The question had no easy answer, and it followed me through the rest of the night.

Just before I turned off the light, my phone screen lit up with a new message from him. I expected another attempt to pull me back or to explain himself further. Instead, the words were simple and final.

I will give you the space you asked for. But I will not lie and pretend I stopped loving you.

I stared at the screen for a long time while the quiet pressed in around me. The distance I had requested suddenly felt far more dangerous than the closeness I had been running from.