chapter 6
609 Words
She waited until the door had been shut long enough to stop echoing. Until Jason had stopped looking at her like she was something slipping through his fingers again.
Then she ran.
Not from the gallery. Not from Elias. Not physically, anyway.
She ran inside herself — that old escape hatch she used when emotions felt too big, too sharp, too real. She climbed up the metal staircase to the loft above the gallery and slammed the door behind her, just loud enough to feel like a boundary.
She didn’t cry.
She never cried.
Instead, she paced. Fast. Sharp. Her breath coming quicker than it should have.
Jason loved her. Still. After everything. And she — she wasn’t sure what she felt.
No. That was a lie.
She felt everything.
That’s what scared her.
Because Jordan was just a scratch — a wrong turn she took while trying to forget. But Jason?
Jason was the wound.
She heard the soft creak of the stairs, didn’t turn.
“I’m not here to fight,” he said, voice quiet.
“Then don’t talk,” she snapped.
Silence.
She hated that he listened.
She hated that he always knew when she needed space and still managed to exist in it.
Finally, she turned to face him. "You think saying you still love me is enough?”
“No,” he said. “I think it’s the only honest thing I have left.”
She blinked hard. Her throat burned.
“I buried my brother without you,” she said. “I held my mother while she fell apart. I kept going because if I didn’t, I would’ve disappeared.”
“I know,” he whispered.
“No, you don’t. You vanished, Jason. You didn’t just leave me — you left everything. And now you’re standing here like your pain makes you brave.”
His face twisted. “I never said it did.”
“But that’s the story, right?” she said, stepping toward him. “You ran because you were broken. You came back because you’re sorry. And now I’m supposed to what — forgive you? Fall into your arms and pretend this city didn’t eat me alive while you were gone?”
“I came back,” he said, voice rough, “because the pain of not seeing you again was worse than anything else.”
She stopped.
Frozen.
“Every city I went to, every night I tried to sleep, you were there. In dreams. In songs. In empty coffee cups. I saw your face in strangers and wanted to scream. I came back because I didn’t know how to live without wondering what would’ve happened if I’d stayed.”
She stared at him, chest heaving.
“You don’t get to say that,” she whispered. “Not unless you’re staying for real.”
Jason took a slow step forward. “I am.”
A beat.
Then she slapped him.
Not hard. Not cruel.
But enough.
Enough to break the air between them.
His head turned slightly. Then he looked back at her. And god — the look on his face. The ache. The want. The history.
She was shaking.
And then she kissed him.
Fast. Harsh. Desperate.
Like she hated herself for it.
Like she couldn’t not.
And he kissed her back like he’d been holding his breath for three years.
When they broke apart, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t safe.
She stared at him, lips swollen, voice shattered.
“If you leave again,” she said, “don’t come back.”
He didn’t answer.
Because they both knew — next time, there wouldn’t be a second chance.
- Writer
