Tell Me Why It Was Me
1132 Words
I didn’t know what I expected when I knocked on his door.
Maybe I wanted him to open it and say nothing. Maybe I thought the look on his face would answer everything, or maybe I hoped he wouldn’t be there at all, so I could pretend I’d tried and walk away without falling apart.
But the second the door opened, and I saw his face, every sharp angle dulled by exhaustion, his hair messier than usual, his shirt wrinkled like he hadn’t bothered trying, I knew I was already breaking.
He looked at me like he didn’t know whether to let me in or slam the door and save us both.
“Hi,” I said softly.
He didn’t move. “Are you here to finish me off?”
“I don’t know what I’m here for.”
He stepped aside.
I walked in.
It was warm inside. Quiet. Dimly lit by the soft yellow lamp by his desk. The same desk where I’d once seen him sketch, half-lost in a world he never let anyone else touch.
There was a packet crumpled on the floor, a half-finished letter torn down the middle, and an empty glass on the nightstand.
I sat on the edge of his bed.
He leaned against the wall.
Neither of us spoke for a full minute.
Finally, I exhaled. “You kissed someone else.”
He didn’t flinch. “I know.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought it would make me forget.”
“Did it?”
He shook his head once. “It made me feel nothing.”
My throat burned. “Then why did you let her touch you?”
“Because I was trying not to want the person I actually wanted. And she didn’t ask me to be better.”
I looked up. “And I did?”
He nodded slowly. “Every time you looked at me like I wasn’t a disaster, you made it harder to keep pretending I didn’t care.”
The silence between us stretched, pulled taut like wire.
I stood. “Then tell me why it was me.”
“What?”
“Why me, Jace?” My voice cracked. “Why the scholarship girl from the back row? Why the quiet one? The ordinary one? You could have anyone.”
He stared at me for a long time. And when he finally spoke, it wasn’t angry. It was broken.
“Because you looked at me like I mattered before you knew who I was. Because you held your breath every time someone made you feel small, but you still stood your ground. Because you smiled like you didn’t want anyone to see it, and cried like it was a weakness you hadn’t forgiven yourself for.”
He took a step closer. “Because you were honest. Even when I wasn’t.”
Another step. “Because you walked into that cabin and let me see you. And when I told you I didn’t want to be saved, you didn’t try. You just stayed.”
I was shaking.
He was standing right in front of me now.
And I didn’t trust myself to breathe.
“Say something,” he whispered.
“I hate that I missed you,” I said.
He reached up like he was going to touch me, then stopped. His hand hovered near my face, trembling.
“Can I?” he asked.
I nodded.
His fingertips brushed my jaw. His thumb slid under my chin, tilting my face up like I was something fragile. Like he didn’t trust himself to hold me without breaking both of us.
“I kept writing you letters,” he murmured. “And every time, I told myself I’d send the next one. But I couldn’t. Because once I did, it would be real.”
“It was already real.”
His forehead touched mine.
His breath was warm. Close. Everything in me surged forward.
We were inches from kissing.
And then, the door opened.
I froze.
So did he.
Lena stood in the doorway, her eyes taking in the scene with terrifying calm. She was holding a textbook and a folder like she’d just come from class, but everything about her posture screamed war.
“Wow,” she said softly. “This feels familiar.”
I stepped back like I’d been slapped.
Jace looked like someone had cut the air from his lungs.
Lena glanced at the desk. “You gave her the key. Cute.”
“No,” he said quickly. “She didn’t use the key. She knocked.”
“Of course she did,” Lena replied with a bitter smile. “Because she still has boundaries.”
I turned to leave.
Jace caught my wrist. “Emma, don’t…”
“I’m not doing this,” I whispered, yanking free.
“Not again.”
He followed me into the hall.
“Emma, please.”
I turned on him. “Why was she here, Jace? Why does she still have a key?”
“I was going to give it back. I hadn’t seen her since… I didn’t think she’d just show up.”
“But she did. And she walked in like it was her right. So either you’re lying to me, or you’re lying to yourself.”
His jaw tensed.
“Tell me the truth,” I said. “If she hadn’t walked in… would you have kissed me?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I just know I wouldn’t have stopped.”
Tears threatened to rise.
I nodded once.
Then walked away.
I made it to the quad before I let myself fall apart.
Sofia found me on the steps.
She didn’t ask.
Just sat beside me and let me cry.
“I thought I could handle it,” I said between breaths. “I thought if I just looked him in the eye, I’d get my answer.”
“And did you?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “But it wasn’t the one I wanted.”
She didn’t speak for a moment.
Then, quietly: “You know he loves you, right?”
“That’s the problem,” I said. “He doesn’t know what to do with love that doesn’t hurt.”
Later that night, I opened the drawer where I kept his letters.
I unfolded the last one again.
Read it twice.
Then I wrote one of my own.
You said wanting me was the only real thing you’ve ever done.
Then do it right.
Don’t want me halfway. Don’t come back unless you’re sure.
I sealed it.
Didn’t sign it.
Slipped it under his door.
And walked away before I could change my mind.
- Writer
