Chapter 7: I'm Not as Good as Him
459 Words
Claire hadn’t called. Not that day, not the next.
No “good morning” text. No dinner plans—— Just silence.
I told myself she was busy. That the care home documentary kept her distracted. But deep down, I knew better.
I sat in my apartment, lights off, a cold plate of food untouched on the table. My phone screen lit up now and then, but never with her name.
I scrolled through her social feed. One photo stood out—Leo surrounded by residents, holding a paintbrush, smiling. Claire had captioned it: “He brings them joy.”
I closed the app.
Later that evening, I walked to her building. I didn’t even ring. She just stood downstairs and looked up at her window. Light on. Curtains drawn. A silhouette moved across the room.
I shouldn’t be here.
I turned to go, but the door opened.
“Liam?”
Her voice cut through the silence.
I turned. She was wearing the hoodie I’d left at her place weeks ago.
“I wasn’t going to come in,” I said. “Just… needed to see you.”
She hesitated, then stepped aside. “Come in.”
The apartment was warm. Familiar. But different. Like it had shifted in my absence.
She handed me a mug of tea. Mint, just the way I hated it. Leo’s habit, not mine.
“Thanks,” I said anyway.
We sat on opposite sides of the couch.
“You’ve been quiet,” she said.
“So have you.”
Claire looked at her hands. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“Neither did I.”
A long pause stretched between us.
Finally, I said it. “Do you know what’s going on?”
She looked up, expression unreadable. “I think so.”
I let out a slow breath. “It was only supposed to be three days.”
“I know.”
She reached for her phone and opened a photo of Leo in my clothes, laughing with Mr. Chen.
“I thought it was you,” she whispered. “At first.”
“And now?”
She didn’t answer.
My voice cracked. “You like him more, don’t you?”
She didn’t deny it.
“Claire,” I said, “he’s not real.” He’s an imitation.
“He’s you,” she said softly. But without fear. Without the distance.
I felt something shatter in my chest.
“I’m not as good as him,” I said, barely audible.
She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “No. You’re just real. That’s what makes it harder.”
I left before I could fall apart in front of her.
And this time, she didn’t ask me to stay.
- Writer
