The Timing Between Us

Chapter Seven

Not This Time

Clara

My heart stopped.

No.

Not stopped.

Collapsed.

Because Reig Miller stood in front of me looking calm after casually destroying the remaining stability of my emotional state.

“I still like you.”

The words replayed inside my head so loudly that for a second I forgot how to breathe.

The city noise around us faded.

Cars.

People.

Wind.

Everything disappeared except him.

And somehow that made things worse.

Because the terrifying part wasn’t the confession.

It was the fact that some stupid hidden part of me had waited years to hear it.

I stared at him silently.

Reig didn’t look nervous.

Didn’t look unsure.

Just…certain.

And that certainty scared me.

Because I had none.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” I whispered finally.

His gaze stayed on me. “Why?”

“Because we just met again.”

“Not exactly.”

“You know what I mean.”

I tightened my grip on my bag.

This felt dangerous.

Too fast.

Too real.

The little girl inside me, the one who used to wait for him during recess and smile whenever he held her hand during field trips, wanted to believe him immediately.

But the twenty-two-year-old version of me?

She knew better.

“Reig…” I swallowed softly. “I think you’re confused.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Confused.”

“Yes.”

“You think I accidentally liked you for ten years?”

My chest tightened painfully.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it means something.”

His expression softened slightly.

“It does.”

I looked away immediately.

Because that was the problem.

If he kept speaking to me like this, I might start believing him.

And I couldn’t afford that.

Not now.

Not with my life looking like this.

“You probably just miss the nostalgic feeling,” I said quietly. “We were kids. Maybe seeing me again brought back memories, and now you think it’s something deeper.”

Reig stared at me for a long second.

Then slowly

“You really believe that?”

“I think…” My voice weakened slightly. “I think you miss who I used to be.”

Silence.

Painfully quiet silence.

And suddenly I hated myself for saying it because something in his eyes changed.

Not angry.

Just disappointed.

Like he couldn’t understand how I still failed to see what was right in front of me.

But how could I?

How could someone like him genuinely want someone like me?

He built a life in New York.

Graduated magna c*m laude.

Became a pilot.

Successful.

Disciplined.

Certain.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t even answer relatives whenever they asked:

“So when are you graduating?”

I laughed weakly under my breath.

God.

What a joke.

“Rabbit.”

I shook my head immediately.

“No.”

“No?”

“I can’t do this.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“Do what?”

“This.”

I gestured between us helplessly.

“You confessed and suddenly everything feels complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Yes, it does.”

Because if I let myself hope and things fall apart later, I genuinely didn’t know if I could survive another disappointment.

And maybe that sounded dramatic.

But my life already felt like one long unfinished sentence.

I looked down at my hands.

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

The softness in his voice almost broke me.

Because Reig always did this.

Even before.

He listened.

Carefully.

Like my words mattered.

And maybe that was why I ended up speaking anyway.

“I’m tired,” I admitted quietly.

He stayed silent.

Waiting.

“I know everyone thinks I’m just taking a break right now, but honestly?” I laughed softly without humor. “I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

The words felt ugly once spoken aloud.

Embarrassing.

“I was supposed to graduate this year.”

My throat tightened slightly.

“But I can’t even look at my course without feeling miserable.”

Reig’s expression changed immediately.

Softer now.

More attentive.

“I never wanted engineering,” I continued quietly. “My parents did.”

The confession tasted bitter.

And somehow once I started, I couldn’t stop anymore.

“Ever since I was a kid, I have just…” I looked away with a weak smile. “I liked drawing.”

I laughed softly again.

Embarrassed.

“Stupid, right?”

“No.”

The answer came immediately.

Firm.

Certain.

My chest hurt.

“They were proud of it,” I whispered. “But only as a hobby.”

Memories surfaced painfully.

My father talking about stability.

About practical careers.

About success.

About how art could never build a future.

And because I was the obedient daughter.

I listened.

“I thought maybe I could learn to love engineering eventually,” I admitted. “Everyone said college was hard anyway. So I kept going.”

My voice weakened slightly.

“Until one day I realized I hated waking up every morning.”

Silence.

The afternoon suddenly felt heavier around us.

“I stopped for a year,” I said quietly. “Just to breathe.”

And God.

Even now, I still remember the argument.

My mother crying.

My father angry.

Disappointed.

Like I ruined the future they carefully imagined for me.

“They barely talked to me after.”

Reig’s jaw tightened visibly.

I pretended not to notice.

“They still gave me one year,” I continued. “But only because they expect me to go back after.”

Three months.

Only three months left before I had to return.

And every day that countdown felt more suffocating.

“What if I still don’t want it?” I whispered softly.

The question wasn’t really for him.

It was for myself.

Because I already knew the answer.

I didn’t want it.

I never did.

But disappointing my parents felt unbearable.

So instead

I disappointed myself.

“I’ve been surviving from commissions lately,” I admitted quietly. “Small art projects. Paintings.”

I smiled weakly.

“They don’t know.”

Reig stared at me carefully.

“You sell your work?”

I nodded.

“Sometimes.”

Something unreadable crossed his face.

Not judgment.

Almost admiration.

Which somehow felt worse.

“You’re talented,” he said quietly.

My throat tightened instantly.

“You haven’t even seen my recent work.”

“I don’t need to.”

God.

I hated him a little for saying the right things so naturally.

Because suddenly my eyes burned slightly.

I looked away quickly before he noticed.

“I’m messy right now, Reig.”

The words finally came out honestly.

No hiding.

No pretending.

“My life is messy. My future is messy. Everything feels unfinished and confusing, and I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

I swallowed hard.

“So entering a relationship now would just be selfish.”

Especially with him.

Because Reig deserved someone stable.

Certain.

Someone who didn’t feel like she was constantly drowning quietly.

And maybe the cruelest part?

His confession had already awakened something inside me.

Old feelings.

Forgotten feelings.

The kind I buried years ago after he left.

But life wasn’t simple enough for timing to suddenly become perfect just because we found each other again.

“I can’t be what you want right now,” I whispered.

For the first time since the conversation started, Reig looked genuinely affected.

Not because I rejected him.

But because I truly believed that about myself.

Then slowly

Very slowly

He stepped closer.

One step.

Then another.

Until my breathing became uneven again.

“Clara,” he said quietly, “Who told you? You had to become something first before being loved?”

My heart physically hurt.

Because nobody ever asked me that before.

And suddenly

My phone rang loudly inside my bag.

I flinched immediately.

The screen lit up.

Mom Calling.

My stomach dropped.