The breaking point
305 Words
Emilia didn’t tell Lucas about the offer.
Not at first.
She carried it with her instead, the weight of it pressing against her ribs like something alive. Every time her phone buzzed, she flinched. Every time Lucas looked at her—really looked—she felt like a liar.
They existed in careful avoidance.
Mornings were quiet. Afternoons strained. Evenings unbearable.
Lucas no longer brushed past her in hallways. No longer lingered in doorways. The restraint that once felt charged now felt cold, deliberate.
Punishment.
“You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine,” Emilia said finally, breaking the silence over dinner.
Lucas didn’t look up from his plate. “I’m not pretending.”
“Yes, you are,” she snapped. “You’re disappearing.”
He set his fork down slowly. “Funny. That used to be your specialty.”
The words landed like a slap.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You never do,” he said quietly. “But it keeps happening.”
Her chest tightened. “I’m still here.”
“For now,” he replied.
The implication burned.
“Say it,” she demanded. “Say what you’re thinking.”
Lucas finally met her gaze, something raw flickering there. “I think you’ve already decided. I think you’re just waiting until it hurts less to tell me.”
Tears stung her eyes. “That’s not fair.”
“No,” he agreed. “But it’s familiar.”
She pushed back from the table, chair scraping loudly. “I can’t breathe in this house anymore.”
“Then go,” Lucas said.
The finality in his voice shattered something inside her.
“Fine,” she whispered. “Maybe I will.”
She grabbed her jacket and keys, the door slamming behind her hard enough to rattle the walls.
Lucas didn’t follow.
- Writer
