CHAPTER 15_TOO CLOSE TO LEAVE
644 Words
I read her messages again.
And again.
Each time, they landed differently.
I’m angry you think that’s the secret.
You moved rooms because you felt unsafe. That hurts — but I understand it.
What you should be asking isn’t what Aaron told you. It’s why he waited until now.
My chest tightened, not with fear, but with something worse.
Recognition.
Aaron hadn’t spoken because he was guilty.
He’d spoken because he was jealous.
Because whatever Isa and I had — whatever it was becoming — had shifted the balance.
I set my phone down, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling of my new room. It still smelled like detergent and nothing else. No trace of Isa. No sense of her presence pressed into the walls.
A knock came at the door.
I didn’t jump this time.
I already knew.
I opened it to find Isa leaning against the frame, posture relaxed, eyes sharp. She looked out of place here, like she didn’t belong in a room she hadn’t claimed.
“You weren’t going to answer,” she said.
“No,” I admitted.
She stepped inside anyway. Not forcefully. Not asking. Just… Isa.
“You’re upset,” she said.
“You don’t get to diagnose me.”
A faint smile curved her lips. “You always hated when I was right.”
That made something twist in my chest.
She took in the room slowly. The bed. The desk. The empty space where she should’ve been standing.
“You really did it,” she murmured. “You left.”
“I needed air,” I said.
“You ran.”
I bristled. “I chose myself.”
She turned to face me fully then, expression unreadable. “And did you feel safer?”
The question caught me off guard.
“I felt… quieter,” I said.
Isa nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
Silence stretched between us, tight and charged.
“You talked to Aaron,” she said finally.
“I didn’t go looking for him.”
“But you listened.”
“Yes.”
She stepped closer. Not enough to touch. Just enough to be felt.
“And now?” she asked softly.
I swallowed. “Now I don’t know what’s real.”
Her gaze darkened. “You think he told you the truth?”
“I think he told me a truth.”
“That’s the problem,” Isa said. “He always waits until it hurts the most.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re not innocent either.”
“I never claimed to be.”
The honesty of that made my breath catch.
She reached out, stopped herself halfway, hand hovering in the space between us.
“I didn’t bring him into this,” she said. “But I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy knowing he saw you with me.”
Heat pooled low in my stomach despite everything.
“That’s toxic,” I whispered.
“Yes,” she agreed. “And you still want me.”
The words weren’t a question.
I hated that she was right.
“You don’t get to own me,” I said.
Her eyes flicked to my lips, then back up. “I don’t want to own you. I want you to choose me.”
The room felt smaller.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” I admitted.
She nodded once. “Then don’t.”
She stepped back, giving me space that felt heavier than her closeness.
“But don’t pretend you don’t feel this,” she said quietly. “Because I do.”
She left without another word.
I sank onto the bed, heart racing, body buzzing, emotions tangled beyond sorting.
This wasn’t about secrets anymore.
It was about desire — and how dangerous it becomes when you don’t know who’s telling the truth, but you still want them anyway.
- Writer
