When we were almost forever

Chapter 13 – Things We Stop Pretending

I didn’t see Ethan for two days after that.

At first, I told myself it was relief.

Less tension.

Less pressure.

Less of whatever this was becoming between us.

But by the second day, the silence felt different.

Not peaceful.

Empty.

And I hated that I noticed the difference.

---

Zara noticed too, of course.

She always did.

We were walking through the small market near the square when she suddenly said,

“You’re doing that thing again.”

I didn’t look at her.

“What thing?”

“The pretending-you’re-not-thinking-about-him thing.”

I sighed.

“I’m working on emotional independence.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“It is.”

“No,” she said firmly. “This is avoidance with better branding.”

I stopped walking.

“So what do you want me to do, Zara?”

She turned to face me fully.

“Stop acting like wanting him is a problem you need to solve.”

That landed too directly.

I looked away.

“It is a problem.”

“Why?”

“Because nothing about us is simple.”

Zara crossed her arms.

“Simple doesn’t mean wrong.”

That stayed with me longer than I wanted it to.

We kept walking, but my mind wasn’t really there anymore.

It kept drifting back.

To Ethan’s voice.

To the way he looked at me when he said I never stopped being here.

To the fact that I hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.

---

That night, I made a decision.

Not a big one.

Not dramatic.

Just… honest.

I texted him.

Me: We need to talk.

It took less than a minute for him to reply.

Ethan: I’m listening.

Of course he was.

That was his problem.

He always showed up when I finally stopped running.

We agreed to meet at the lake.

Again.

Because apparently neither of us had learned how to avoid places that mattered.

When I arrived, he was already there.

Standing near the water.

Hands in his pockets.

Looking like he had been waiting without making it feel like waiting.

I stopped a few steps away.

Neither of us spoke at first.

Just the wind.

Just the water.

Just everything we had been avoiding standing still long enough to notice.

Finally, I said,

“You’re making this harder.”

He looked at me.

“I know.”

That answer frustrated me more than it should have.

I stepped closer.

“Then why don’t you stop?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“Because I don’t think this is something we should stop.”

My chest tightened.

Of course he said that.

Always steady.

Always sure.

Even when I wasn’t.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I said quietly.

“Doing what?”

“This—” I gestured between us. “Whatever this is becoming.”

Ethan took a small step closer.

Not enough to overwhelm.

Just enough that I felt it.

“I’m not asking you to decide everything right now.”

“That’s what you keep saying.”

“Because it’s true.”

I shook my head slightly.

“That doesn’t make it easier.”

“I never said it would.”

Silence again.

But this time it felt different.

Less like distance.

More like tension held too long.

I looked at him.

Really looked.

At the way he stayed even when I pushed.

At the way he didn’t disappear when things got complicated.

At the way he kept choosing honesty even when I wasn’t ready for it.

And something in me shifted.

Small.

But real.

“You’re not going to walk away, are you?” I asked quietly.

His expression softened slightly.

“No.”

The answer was simple.

Too simple.

I exhaled slowly.

“That’s the problem.”

He frowned slightly.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know what happens when someone stays.”

That made him pause.

Really pause.

Then he said gently,

“Maybe you find out you don’t have to keep running.”

My throat tightened.

“That’s not how it feels.”

“I know.”

A pause.

Then quieter—

“But feelings aren’t always telling the truth.”

That hit deeper than I wanted to admit.

The wind moved between us.

Soft.

Constant.

Unavoidable.

I stepped closer without fully realizing it.

“You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not easy,” he said. “It’s just real.”

That word again.

Real.

Not almost.

Not maybe.

Not what if.

Real.

I looked away briefly, then back at him.

“If I let this happen… I don’t get to pretend anymore.”

“No,” he said softly. “You don’t.”

That was the moment.

The line I had been standing on since I came back.

The one I had refused to cross.

I swallowed.

“And you’re sure about this?” I asked.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“I’ve been sure for a long time.”

Something in my chest gave way slightly.

Not breaking.

Just loosening.

Like something finally accepting it couldn’t stay closed forever.

I nodded once.

Barely.

And then—

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted.

Ethan stepped closer again.

This time, I didn’t move away.

“Then we figure it out,” he said.

Simple.

Uncomplicated.

Impossible.

I looked up at him.

And for the first time since everything started again…

I didn’t run.

I just stayed.

And in that silence between us—

something finally stopped pretending.