By the time the weekend came, I needed distance.
Not space.
Distance.
The kind that didn’t come from sitting across a desk pretending everything was normal, or walking past him like he didn’t affect me.
I needed separation.
Silence.
Control.
So I did what I always did when things started slipping out of my grasp.
I retreated.
My apartment had always been my safe place.
Simple. Clean. Quiet.
Everything exactly where I wanted it.
No surprises.
No complications.
No Ethan Blackwood.
I kicked off my heels the second I stepped inside, dropping my bag onto the couch before heading straight to the kitchen.
Water first.
Then maybe a shower.
Then sleep.
That was the plan.
No thinking.
No replaying conversations.
No overanalyzing every word, every look, every pause.
Just peace.
