To End That Situationship

To End That Situationship

“You know what we are. Why are you being so difficult to handle right now?”

I looked him straight in the eyes. They were entirely full of indifference—the exact same eyes that, at specific times, would look at me with so much awe.

“I know,” I replied, my gaze refusing to waver. “I just need you to confirm that we are nothing more than just this situation we’re tangled in right now.”

“I can't promise you a label for what we have. We make each other happy. That's all that matters.” I looked at him coldly. I knew then that I would never get a clear answer from him. Without another word, I stood up and began putting on my clothes and shoes. He let out an annoyed groan before reluctantly getting up to put his own clothes on, too.

“Book me a taxi,” I demanded. He stared at me in sheer disbelief, as if I were speaking a foreign language he couldn't grasp.

“What do you mean, book a taxi? I’ll drop you off.”

I didn’t argue. When we reached the parking lot, I quietly climbed into his car.

The drive to my place was entirely silent. We didn’t exchange a single word. I could feel him looking over at me from time to time, but I refused to glance back, keeping my eyes glued to the passing cars outside. The drive from his apartment to mine took about twenty minutes. He cruised past the neighborhood checkpoint, offering a familiar nod to the security guards. It was funny how the guards already recognized him and his car now. I remembered the first time he dropped me off; he’d had to park outside the gates because it was three in the morning, and my aunt hadn't been awake to approve his entry.

He pulled up right in front of my building's entrance. Usually, we would sit and chat for a bit before I got out, but today was different. I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for the handle, only to find the door locked.

“Can you unlock the door? I want to go home,” I told him, still staring straight ahead.

“Baby, what's wrong? Look at me,” he demanded softly.

I didn’t move an inch. At this point, all I wanted was to be in my own bed. I heard the click of his seatbelt unbuckling, and then he reached out, taking my hand in his. Lacking the energy to protest, I just let him hold it. He gently traced his fingers over mine, waiting for a response.

“I’m tired. I just want to go home and rest,” I finally said, turning to face him. My eyes were completely empty.

“Okay. I don’t want to keep you if you’re tired,” he sighed, leaning over to press a soft kiss against my forehead. “Message me when you get to your room, okay?”

The locks clicked. I pushed the door open and stepped out into the night air.

“See you next weekend?” he called out after me.

I didn’t look back, and I didn’t answer. I just kept walking.

I’ve always known I was a lover girl at heart, built for commitment rather than the casual. I never had a taste for the confusion or the endless wondering of where I stood. I crave clarity; I need to know my place and what I mean to you. That is my self-respect. I lived by that truth for years... and then you came along.