Still Tangled In You.

Chapter Fifteen: If You Want Me, Choose Me Properly

I didn’t reply immediately.

Not to his message.

Not to the silence in my room.

Not even to myself.

Because I already knew that if I answered him too quickly, I would answer from emotion—not from clarity. And I was tired of making decisions I couldn’t stand by the next day.

His message was still there on my screen.

“Can we talk?”

Simple.

But after everything between us, nothing simple ever stayed simple for long.

I sat on my bed for a long time, phone in my hand, watching his name without opening the chat again.

My mind kept going in circles.

Every time I thought about him, I remembered something different.

The beginning.

The intensity.

The moments I thought I couldn’t breathe without him.

And then I remembered the breaking.

The cheating.

The confusion.

The fact that even when we were together, I was never fully at peace.

But then I remembered something else too.

He still came back.

Even after everything.

Even after we ended more than once.

Three times.

And somehow, that meant something too.

Not stability.

Not peace.

But attachment.

Strong, messy attachment.

I stood up finally, walking around my room like movement could help me think better.

It didn’t.

It only made everything louder inside my head.

Because the truth was still there, sitting quietly in the middle of everything I was trying to avoid.

I still loved him.

But I also couldn’t ignore the fact that he wasn’t single.

He had a girlfriend.

And he had still come back to me like that didn’t change anything.

That thought alone made something inside me tighten.

Because that wasn’t love I could step into safely.

That was overlap.

That was confusion.

That was emotional imbalance.

I stopped walking.

My reflection in the mirror looked tired.

Not just physically.

Emotionally.

Like I had been carrying too many feelings at once for too long.

And I had.

I finally picked up my phone again.

Typed a reply.

Deleted it.

Typed again.

Deleted again.

Because every version of what I wanted to say felt too soft, too angry, or too emotional.

But I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever.

So I sent one message.

“Come.”

Just that.

And after I sent it, I felt my chest tighten instantly.

Because there was no turning back after that.

He arrived later that evening.

Not dramatic.

Not rushed.

Just quiet.

Like he had been expecting this conversation for a while too.

When I opened the door, we didn’t smile.

We didn’t act like nothing had happened.

We just looked at each other for a second that felt heavier than it should have.

Then I stepped aside.

And he walked in.

Silence filled the room immediately.

That familiar kind of silence that always came when two people had too much history and not enough clarity.

He sat down first.

I stayed standing for a moment longer before finally sitting opposite him.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Because we both already knew this wasn’t a casual conversation.

This was something else.

Something final.

Or something dangerous.

I took a breath.

Then I spoke.

“You said you wanted to talk.”

He nodded slowly.

“Yes.”

I looked at him properly now.

And for the first time in a while, I didn’t let emotion lead immediately.

I let logic speak first.

“You have a girlfriend,” I said quietly.

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t hesitate.

Just nodded again.

“Yes.”

That one word sat in the space between us for a moment too long.

Then I continued.

“And you’re here… asking me to talk to you like that doesn’t change anything.”

He exhaled slowly.

“It’s not like that,” he said.

But I shook my head slightly.

“No,” I replied. “It is like that.”

His eyes shifted.

Not angry.

Just tense.

Because he knew I wasn’t wrong.

I leaned forward slightly, resting my hands together.

“I need to understand something,” I said.

He stayed quiet.

“Do you want me, or are you just coming back when things feel complicated in your relationship?”

That question made him look down for a second.

Not because he didn’t hear me.

But because it was uncomfortable to answer.

“I care about you,” he said finally.

I let out a small breath.

“That’s not the question.”

Silence again.

He rubbed his hands together slightly.

“I didn’t plan this,” he said.

“But you still came,” I replied.

That landed heavier than I expected.

Because it was true.

He didn’t just “end up here.”

He chose to come.

There was a difference.

I leaned back slightly.

My voice was calmer now, but firmer.

“If you want me,” I said slowly, “you need to be single.”

His head lifted slightly.

That changed the atmosphere instantly.

Not because it was shocking.

But because it was direct.

Very direct.

“You can’t be with someone else and still come back to me like this,” I continued. “That’s not fair to anyone.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

I could see the conflict in his eyes.

Not surprise.

Not confusion.

Conflict.

Because part of him already knew this was coming.

“I’m not asking you to cheat,” I added quietly. “I’m asking you to choose properly if you actually want me.”

He stayed silent.

And that silence told me everything I needed to know.

Because if someone truly wants you, clarity doesn’t feel like pressure.

It feels like direction.

But for him, it felt like pressure.

That meant there was still something else holding him back.

“I can’t just… end things like that,” he said finally.

There it was.

Honest.

But not what I needed.

I nodded slowly.

“I understand,” I said.

And I did.

But understanding didn’t mean accepting.

I stood up slowly, walking a few steps away from him.

“I’m not going to be the reason you’re confused in another relationship,” I said.

He stood up too now.

“I’m not confused,” he said quickly.

But I turned slightly.

“Then what are you?”

That question hit silence again.

He didn’t answer immediately.

And in that pause, I felt something inside me shift.

Not sadness.

Not anger.

Clarity.

Because I realized something important.

This wasn’t about love anymore.

It was about choice.

And he wasn’t choosing.

Not fully.

Not clearly.

Not in a way that gave me peace.

“I still care about you,” I said softly.

His expression softened slightly at that.

“But I can’t be in the middle of your relationship,” I continued. “I can’t be the person you come back to when things don’t feel perfect somewhere else.”

He took a small step forward.

“I’m not using you,” he said.

“I didn’t say you are,” I replied immediately.

My voice was steady now.

Because I wasn’t angry anymore.

Just clear.

“But that’s what this situation is becoming,” I added. “And I don’t want that for myself.”

He looked at me like he wanted to say something else.

Something stronger.

Something that would fix the moment.

But nothing came.

Because there was nothing that could fix it without a decision.

I shook my head slightly.

“If you ever really want me,” I said quietly, “come back single. Fully single. No confusion. No overlap.”

I paused.

“And then we can talk.”

That was it.

The boundary.

Clean.

Simple.

Real.

He stayed quiet for a moment.

Then nodded slowly.

“I hear you,” he said.

But I could tell he wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

Maybe not at all.

And that was the part that hurt the most.

Not losing him.

But realizing I couldn’t have him properly even if I wanted to.

Because love without choice is just noise.

I walked him to the door later.

We didn’t argue.

We didn’t fight.

We didn’t fix anything.

He paused before leaving.

Like he wanted to say more.

But he didn’t.

And then he left.

After the door closed, I didn’t move for a while.

I just stood there.

Quiet.

Empty.

But not broken.

Because something inside me had shifted.

For the first time, I wasn’t begging to be chosen.

I was demanding clarity.

And even if it hurt…

That felt like the first real decision I had made in a long time.