Borrowed Nights

Chapter 6: Starting Over

Weeks passed.

But the memory of him didn’t.

Not the way he kissed me like he needed it to breathe.

Not the way he whispered my name like it meant something.

Not the way he stood there, looking at me like I was the one who walked away, when he was the one who never stayed.

I didn’t quit immediately after what he did, but I stopped trying.

Stopped caring.

I came in, did what I had to do, then left.

No small talk.

No staying late.

And definitely no more lingering glances.

Julian tried once—twice—to talk. Asked me to lunch. Stopped by my desk with some lame excuse to chat.

But I gave him nothing.

No expression.

No reaction.

Just the same cold smile he used to give me before everything started.

And maybe that killed him a little.

Good.

Because it sure as hell killed me.

---

One Friday night, after two bottles of soju with Bea, I finally said the words I’d been holding in.

“I need to leave.”

Bea nodded like she’d been waiting. “Then do it.”

I stared into my cup. “It’s not that easy. I don’t even have another offer.”

“You will. You're smart. You’re capable. And you’re done with Julian, right?”

I paused.

Then nodded. “Right.”

---

Two weeks later, I had an interview.

It wasn’t anything fancy. A mid-sized company with clean white walls, nice lighting, and a young, easygoing team.

Their HR manager smiled at me kindly. “We loved your résumé. And your test? Excellent.”

“Thank you,” I replied, fingers clenched in my lap. I’d been so anxious, my palms were still sweating.

She leaned forward. “What made you want to leave your current job?”

I hesitated.

Do I say the truth? That I fell for my boss and it went to hell?

No.

“I wanted a healthier environment,” I said carefully. “Somewhere I can grow without… personal complications.”

She smiled like she understood. “Well, I think you’ll love it here. We’re very chill. No drama. And we’re excited to have someone like you.”

I almost cried from relief.

---

I got the job.

Two weeks’ notice handed in.

No words exchanged with Julian.

Only a nod when I passed him in the hall.

I packed up on my last day without drama.

No goodbyes from him.

No last-minute confessions.

I didn’t expect any.

But it still stung.

---

My first day at the new job was quiet.

The kind of quiet I hadn’t realized I needed.

No tension.

No forced smiles.

Just work, nice coworkers, and peaceful mornings.

The office was smaller. The coffee was worse. The view wasn’t as nice.

But I was okay.

I was breathing again.

I thought I was finally free.

Until three weeks later, I opened my email and saw his name.

Subject: Can we talk?

I stared at the screen.

My pulse quickened.

I didn’t open it.

Not yet.

But the truth I’d been avoiding was loud in my chest.

Maybe I wasn’t done with him after all.

The email sat in my inbox for two days.

I stared at it every time I opened my computer. The subject line taunted me, gnawing at my resolve. Can we talk?

But what was there left to say?

The man who made my heart race with a single glance had become a stranger. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop seeing the way he looked at me that last morning. The confusion in his eyes, the way he reached for me like he needed something more—but wasn’t ready to give it.

I didn’t open the email.

Not until Friday.

Bea had dragged me out for drinks again, as usual. But this time, I wasn’t really in the mood. My mind was on that damn email.

After the third round of margaritas, I excused myself and stepped outside for some air. The cool evening breeze helped clear my head, but it wasn’t enough.

I sat on the curb, phone in hand, and hesitated.

I knew what I was doing.

But I couldn’t help it. I had to know what he wanted.

I clicked on the email.

From: Julian Dela Vega

Subject: Can we talk?

Sofia,

I’ve been thinking about you. About everything we’ve left unsaid.

If you’re willing, can we meet and talk?

I’m sorry for everything. Please.

— Julian

I let out a bitter laugh.

Sorry for everything. What was that supposed to mean? A half-assed apology because he was tired of the silence? Because I was moving on?

No. I wasn’t going to fall for it again.

But my fingers moved anyway, tapping out a quick response.

Subject: Re: Can we talk?

Julian,

There’s nothing to talk about.

I’m moving on.

— Sofia

I hit send before I could second-guess myself.

But as I read the words again, my stomach twisted. Moving on. It wasn’t true. Not entirely. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I didn’t know how to move on when he still occupied every corner of my mind.

I stood up, slipping my phone back into my bag, and walked back inside the bar to join Bea, my thoughts still tangled in the mess I’d created with Julian.

---

The weekend passed in a blur of work, Netflix, and more wine.

I didn’t think about Julian much, at least not consciously. But in the quiet moments, when I didn’t have anything to distract me, the memories crept in.

The way he held me. The way he kissed me like he didn’t want to stop. The way he’d whispered that he couldn’t let me go.

Was that enough to justify what we’d done?

Was that enough to ignore all the ways he’d hurt me?

---

Monday came too quickly, and I walked into work with a knot in my stomach.

I was getting used to my new job. The routine was easy enough. But my mind kept drifting to Julian. I tried to push him out, tried to forget everything.

Then, as I sat at my desk, the door to the office opened. And there he was.

Julian.

I froze.

He walked in like he owned the place—confident, collected, but there was something in his eyes. Something that made my heart stutter.

I stood up before I could stop myself.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, but it came out sharp.

He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me, like he was trying to figure out whether I was going to throw him out or break down in front of him.

Finally, he spoke. “I came to talk. About the email.”

“I already replied,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I told you there’s nothing to talk about.”

He stepped closer, his gaze softening. “I don’t believe that. And I don’t think you believe it either.”

I swallowed, my throat dry. “You don’t get to come here and—”

“I do,” he interrupted, his voice low but firm. “I have every right to be here. I screwed up. I know that. But I’m not going to just let you walk away without saying what I need to say.”

My chest tightened. “I’m not walking away. I’m moving on.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable. “You say that, but I don’t think you are.”

I took a step back, trying to keep my composure. “I’m fine. I’m doing just fine. So, if this is about closure, it’s not happening.”

He stood there, silent for a long moment, then sighed deeply. “I never meant to hurt you. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix us.”

“You can’t,” I whispered. “It’s over.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, his voice softer now. “Not for me. And not for you, either.”

I looked away, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. “You don’t get to make decisions for me anymore.”

“I’m not trying to,” he said, stepping even closer. “I’m just asking for a chance to explain. To make it right.”

I shook my head. “I don’t need you to fix anything. I need you to stop pretending like you care, when you’ve shown me time and time again that you don’t.”

His face twisted in frustration. “That’s not true, Sofia.”

“But it is,” I snapped. “You used me when it was convenient for you, and now that you’ve got your company back on track, you don’t need me anymore.”

“That’s not fair,” he said quietly. “I didn’t use you. I didn’t—”

“You’re right,” I cut him off. “It’s not fair. But it’s the truth.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension between us was thick, heavy with all the things we hadn’t said.

Then, finally, I broke the silence.

“I’m done,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze lingered on me, and for a brief moment, I thought he might argue again. But instead, he just nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

I couldn’t help the sting of disappointment that crept into my chest. But I didn’t say anything more. I just turned away and walked back to my desk, trying to push him—and everything we were—out of my mind.

~to be continued...