CHAPTER 9: Almost enough
418 Words
With Alex, everything stayed on the surface—and somehow, that began to feel heavy.
We kept meeting late. After workouts. After long days. Always in between things, never at the center of them. His hands still found me easily, confidently. He kissed me like he wanted me, like my body was something familiar and necessary.
I liked that.
I needed that.
But I started noticing what wasn’t there.
He never asked how my exams went. Never asked why I looked tired. When I spoke about the hospital, he listened just long enough to kiss me quiet.
At first, I told myself it was refreshing.
No drama. No expectations. No emotional labor.
“This is easy,” I told Sara one night as we sat on her bed, our backs against the wall.
She looked at me carefully. “Is it easy… or is it empty?”
“It’s not empty,” I said defensively. “It’s simple.”
She didn’t argue. She just asked, “Do you feel alone when you’re with him?”
The question lingered long after I left her room.
With Alex, conversations ended where feelings began. When I tried to talk about something real—stress, doubt, fear—he would pull me closer, press his forehead against mine, distract me with touch.
“Don’t think so much,” he’d murmur. “Just feel.”
So I did.
I let his hands anchor me. I let desire blur the questions forming in my chest. I let intensity stand in for intimacy.
One evening, lying beside him, tracing idle patterns on his arm, I asked softly, “What do you want?”
He smiled lazily. “Right now?”
I swallowed. “In general.”
He shrugged. “I don’t overthink life, Lara. I just enjoy what’s good.”
Something inside me tightened.
I nodded. “That makes sense.”
But it didn’t.
I realized then that I was bending again—quietly, invisibly—shrinking my questions so they wouldn’t scare him away.
The familiarity of that feeling terrified me.
When I told Sara what he’d said, she didn’t hesitate.
“You’re dating his body,” she said. “Not his heart.”
I laughed weakly. “Maybe that’s all I need.”
She shook her head. “No. That’s all you’re allowing yourself.”
That night, with Alex’s arm heavy across my waist, I stared into the dark and tried to convince myself I was satisfied.
But my chest felt tight.
Hungry.
- Writer
