Chapter 6 You’re Not My Escape
495 Words
Joelle didn’t answer the text.
But she didn’t delete it either.
Melanie
Just one coffee. No drama. Just closure. I’m sorry.
It had come in at 10:07 a.m., right as Joelle was finishing a client proposal and thinking about how Talia had made her eggs that morning—one over easy, one scrambled, “just to keep it interesting.”
Now she stared at the screen like it had said something more dangerous.
She didn’t reply.
But she didn’t tell Talia, either.
That night, they ate dinner on Joelle’s floor Thai takeout and too much red curry. The heat had them both sweating by the second bite, laughing between gulps of water.
Joelle watched Talia carefully.
The way she sat legs crossed, sleeves rolled up. The way she used chopsticks like they were part of her hand. The way she looked at her like she already knew things Joelle hadn’t said yet.
“You’ve been quiet today,” Talia said, not accusing just noticing.
Joelle shrugged. “Long week.”
Talia didn’t press.
Not then.
But later, when they sat on the couch and Joelle tucked her feet under Talia’s thigh, it came back.
“You okay?” Talia asked.
Joelle hesitated.
Nodded.
But it wasn’t a yes.
And Talia heard it.
“You sure?”
Joelle’s jaw tightened. “Yeah.”
Talia waited.
Then said, “I know what it feels like when someone’s somewhere else.”
Joelle stood.
Too fast.
Walked to the kitchen. Opened the fridge. Closed it again.
When she turned back, Talia was still sitting there. Still calm. Still waiting.
“It’s nothing,” Joelle said. “I just—”
Talia raised an eyebrow. “Text from your ex?”
Joelle froze.
Talia didn’t gloat. Didn’t guess. She knew.
“I didn’t respond,” Joelle said, quieter now.
“But you thought about it.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Try using your mouth. It works.”
That stung.
Joelle folded her arms across her chest, but it felt defensive even to her.
“I didn’t want it to mean anything,” she said.
Talia stood.
Walked toward her slowly.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything to you. But you keeping it from me? That means something.”
Joelle’s voice cracked. “I’m trying.”
“I know.”
Talia was close now. Not angry. Not cold. Just steady.
“But I’m not your retreat,” she said. “And I’m not your revenge.”
Joelle looked at her.
Really looked.
And it hit her in the chest how right Talia was.
How unfair she’d been.
How afraid.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Talia nodded.
Then stepped back.
“I need space.”
Joelle panicked. “Are you?”
“I’m not leaving,” Talia said. “I’m just not staying in a place where I don’t know who I am to you.”
Then, quietly, she opened the door.
And left.
- Writer
