Chapter Five: Lines I Shouldn’t Cross
1087 Words
I started lying to myself first.
That was the beginning of everything getting worse.
Not big lies. Not obvious ones.
Small ones.
Like telling myself I didn’t think about him as much anymore.
Like saying I was only talking to his friend because it was “just comfort.”
Like pretending my heart wasn’t slowly reacting differently to both of them.
But the truth is, I noticed the shift.
I just didn’t want to admit it.
With his friend, everything kept getting easier.
Too easy.
We talked almost every day now. Not because we planned it, but because it just happened. A message here. A check-in there. A conversation that started small and somehow lasted for hours.
He became part of my routine without asking for permission.
I would wake up and see his messages.
And I would smile before I even thought about it.
That scared me sometimes.
Because I wasn’t used to feeling calm with someone.
Not like this.
He didn’t confuse me the way my ex did. He didn’t disappear and reappear. He didn’t leave me guessing what I meant to him.
He was consistent.
And consistency, after chaos, feels like love even when you’re not ready to call it that yet.
One night, we were talking longer than usual again.
It was quiet everywhere else. Just me and my phone. Just his messages lighting up my screen.
We were talking about random things at first. Normal things. Nothing heavy.
Then he said something that made me pause.
“You don’t talk about yourself enough.”
I stared at the message for a second.
“I do,” I replied.
“No,” he said quickly. “You talk about everything except you.”
That hit differently than I expected.
Because it was true.
I talked about my feelings, my confusion, my past… but I never really talked about me.
Not fully.
Not honestly.
And somehow, he noticed.
“I just want to understand you better,” he added.
I didn’t reply immediately.
Because that kind of attention… it does something to you.
Not loud.
Quiet.
Slow.
It builds.
Meanwhile, my ex was still there too.
Still inconsistent.
Still confusing.
Still somehow managing to appear exactly when I was starting to feel okay again.
One day I would hear nothing from him.
The next day I’d get a message like we were still in the same place we used to be.
“I miss you.”
Simple words.
Heavy impact.
Every time.
And every time I saw his name, something in me reacted before I could control it.
Not love exactly.
Not pain exactly.
Something in between.
Habit.
Attachment.
History.
He still had a girlfriend, but that didn’t stop the emotional pull he kept creating.
And that was what made it worse.
Because he wasn’t fully present in my life…
But he wasn’t fully gone either.
And I was stuck reacting to both versions of him.
One night, things shifted.
I was on call with his friend when my ex texted me again.
Right in the middle of our conversation.
I saw his name pop up.
And my chest tightened instantly.
I didn’t even mean to go quiet, but I did.
“Everything okay?” his friend asked.
I hesitated.
“…yeah,” I said.
But it wasn’t.
Because suddenly I wasn’t fully in that conversation anymore.
I was split again.
Two people.
Two emotional pulls.
Two different feelings inside me at the same time.
After I ended the call with his friend, I opened my messages.
My ex had sent:
“Can we talk?”
That was it.
No explanation.
No context.
Just that.
And I knew if I replied, I would step back into the same cycle again.
But I also knew I would probably reply anyway.
Because that’s how it always worked between us.
I told myself I’d wait.
Just for a while.
But even as I tried to ignore it, my phone lit up again.
His friend.
“You seemed distracted earlier.”
I stared at that message longer than I should have.
Because he noticed.
Of course he noticed.
He always noticed.
“I’m fine,” I typed back.
But even I didn’t believe it.
And then he replied:
“You don’t have to pretend with me.”
That line stayed on my screen longer than everything else.
Because nobody else had said that to me recently.
Not like that.
Not in a way that felt like they actually saw through me.
I didn’t reply immediately.
Instead, I just sat there thinking.
About my ex.
About his inconsistency.
About how he only came close when it suited him.
About how I always ended up emotionally drained after talking to him.
And then I thought about his friend.
About how calm he made things feel.
About how safe it felt talking to him.
About how I didn’t have to overthink every word I said.
And that scared me the most.
Because I could feel myself leaning.
Slowly.
Without meaning to.
But just as I was thinking that, my ex called.
I hesitated before answering.
I should have ignored it.
But I didn’t.
“Hey,” I said.
There was a pause.
“I miss you,” he said again.
Same words.
Different day.
Same effect on me.
“I saw your message,” I replied quietly.
“I just… I don’t like how things ended between us,” he said.
I closed my eyes for a second.
Because there it was again.
That emotional pull.
That unresolved space he kept leaving me in.
“You have someone,” I reminded him.
“I know,” he said.
But his voice didn’t sound like someone who was fully choosing that.
It sounded like someone who was still holding onto me.
And that was the problem.
Because I was still holding onto him too.
After the call ended, I just sat there.
Again.
Staring at my phone.
Again.
Feeling like I was standing in the middle of something I couldn’t step out of cleanly.
And then my phone lit up again.
His friend.
“You still up?”
And I realized something I didn’t want to accept yet.
My life was no longer just divided into two people.
It was divided into two emotional worlds.
One that pulled me back into the past…
And one that slowly started feeling like the future.
And I was still stuck in between both.
Still tangled.
Still unsure.
Still not ready to let either fully go.
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