I hadn’t withdrawn because I was indifferent.
I had withdrawn because my body had been waiting.
From the first day of the thirty days, Alexander had done everything right. He spoke carefully. He listened more than he used to. He made space for my opinions, my schedule, my silence.
But he never touched me.
Not once.
No hand at my lower back when we passed in the hall.
No fingers brushing mine when we sat side by side.
No instinctive pull that said you’re wanted here.
At first, I told myself it was restraint. Respect. A deliberate choice to avoid confusion.
Then days passed.
Then nights.
And the absence grew heavy.
I hadn’t asked for thirty days to be admired from a distance. I hadn’t asked to be managed gently like a fragile thing. I had asked to be seen and treated right and th
