There is a difference between silence and restraint.
I learn that the day Celeste texts me again.
Not a voice note this time. Not something disguised as concern or closure. Just words. Plain. Deliberate.
We need to talk. You’re misunderstanding the situation.
I stare at my phone until the screen dims.
I don’t feel hurt.
I feel invaded.
I haven’t responded to her in days. I haven’t acknowledged the post, the tag, the quiet performance she’s staging around my marriage. I’ve given her nothing. And still, she keeps reaching.
That’s when it clicks.
This isn’t about Ethan.
This is about control.
I type slowly, carefully. Not because I’m unsure — but because I want there to be no room for interpretation.
Do not contact me again.
There is nothing for us to discuss.
Any further messag
