Chapter Twelve: We Should Just Be Friends
1006 Words
I had been avoiding him for days.
Not in a loud way.
Not in an obvious way.
Just small things.
Replying late.
Keeping conversations short.
Pretending I was busy when I wasn’t.
Staring at his messages for too long before answering anything at all.
Because I already knew what I was doing… even before I did it.
I was slowly distancing myself from someone who didn’t deserve confusion.
And that realization made my chest heavy every time I thought about it.
He didn’t do anything wrong.
That was the hardest part.
He was consistent.
He was patient.
He was present in a way that didn’t feel complicated.
But I wasn’t present with him.
Not fully.
Not emotionally.
Because my heart was still somewhere else—somewhere messy, unfinished, and far more complicated than I wanted to admit.
And every time I tried to pretend I was okay, guilt sat quietly inside me like a weight I couldn’t shake off.
That evening, I finally agreed to meet him.
Not because I was ready.
But because avoiding him felt worse than facing the truth.
We met somewhere quiet.
No noise.
No distractions.
Just space where everything unspoken would eventually have to be said.
When I saw him, he smiled.
Like he always did.
Warm. Familiar. Easy.
Like nothing had changed between us.
And that alone made my chest tighten.
Because everything had changed.
We sat down, and for a while, we talked about random things.
Small things.
Normal things.
Things that didn’t matter enough to break the tension building between us.
But underneath every word, I could feel it.
That quiet pressure.
That unspoken question we were both avoiding.
Why are we really here?
He looked at me at some point, still smiling slightly.
“You’ve been distant,” he said gently.
Not accusing.
Just noticing.
I looked down for a moment.
Because he was right.
I had been distant.
Not because I stopped caring…
But because I didn’t know how to stay emotionally close when my heart wasn’t fully there.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said quietly.
And that was the truth.
The raw truth.
He didn’t respond immediately.
He just waited.
Like he already knew something was coming.
I took a breath.
My hands were slightly tight in my lap.
Because I had rehearsed this in my mind so many times… but saying it out loud still felt heavy.
“I think we should just be friends,” I finally said.
Silence.
It didn’t come immediately as reaction.
It came as stillness.
Like even the air paused to understand what I had just said.
He didn’t speak right away.
And that silence felt louder than anything.
When he finally looked at me, his expression wasn’t angry.
It wasn’t shocked either.
It was something quieter.
Disappointment.
Not loud disappointment.
The kind that sits in someone’s eyes before it reaches their voice.
“Is it because of him?” he asked softly.
My chest tightened instantly.
Because I knew who he meant.
My ex.
And for a second, I hated how everything always circled back to that.
“It’s not that simple,” I said honestly.
But even as I said it, I knew that answer wasn’t enough.
Because nothing about this situation was simple anymore.
He nodded slowly.
Like he was trying to accept something that didn’t make sense to him emotionally, even if he understood it logically.
“I care about you,” he said quietly.
That made my throat tighten.
Because I knew that.
I knew he did.
And that made everything worse.
“I care about you too,” I replied honestly.
And I meant it.
That was the problem.
If I didn’t care, this would have been easier.
If I didn’t feel anything, I could walk away cleanly.
But I did care.
Just not in the way he needed me to.
And that difference changed everything.
We sat there for a moment longer.
Neither of us speaking.
Both of us trying to process something that didn’t have a clean ending.
He looked away briefly, then nodded again.
“Okay,” he said softly.
Just that.
No argument.
No fight.
No attempt to change my mind.
And somehow, that made it heavier.
Because it showed me how much he had already been holding inside him without ever making it my burden.
We stood up slowly.
And when we did, something felt different.
Not dramatically.
Not visibly.
But emotionally.
There was distance now.
Not physical distance.
Something deeper.
Something final in a quiet way.
“I hope you find clarity,” he said gently.
I looked at him for a second longer than I should have.
“I’m trying,” I admitted.
And I meant that too.
Because I really was trying.
But trying didn’t always mean succeeding.
Sometimes it just meant surviving your own confusion.
He gave a small nod, then turned and walked away.
And I stood there longer than I expected to.
Watching him leave.
Not because I was unsure about what I did…
But because I finally understood what it meant.
Letting someone go who didn’t deserve confusion doesn’t feel like relief.
It feels like responsibility.
It feels like guilt that doesn’t have anywhere to go.
And when he disappeared from sight, I didn’t feel lighter.
I felt quieter.
Like something inside my life had just been removed… but the noise inside me was still there.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
And even before I looked, I already knew.
My ex.
Because somehow… even in silence, he still existed in my emotional space.
And that’s when the realization fully hit me.
I hadn’t simplified anything.
I had only shifted the weight.
I was still stuck.
Still confused.
Still emotionally divided between the past that never fully left…
And everything I was still trying to understand about myself.
And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was choosing between two people.
I felt like I was trying to find myself in the both of them.
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