The Thing About Jealousy
906 Words
Jealousy doesn't arrive loudly. It doesn't knock. It doesn't ask for permission. It just… settles in, quiet, sharp, undeniable.
Renz didn't plan to go back. He told himself that more times than he could count. It wasn't his place anymore. He respected that. He accepted that. He stayed away until he didn't. The decision wasn't dramatic, no big realization, no sudden moment of clarity just a turn of the wheel.
A familiar street and before he could stop himself, he was there. The café looked the same, warm lights, soft noise, people inside.
Life moving on like nothing had ever changed.
Renz stepped in, the bell chimed and for a moment, everything felt exactly like it used to until it didn't.
Courtney was behind the counter smiling, relaxed, talking to someone else.
Renz stilled not visibly, not obviously but enough. Enough to feel it. The man standing across from her leaned casually against the counter, laughing at something she said. Easy, comfortable, familiar, too familiar.
"Come on, you're exaggerating," Courtney said, shaking her head with a soft laugh.
"I'm not," the man replied. "That's exactly what happened."
"You're impossible."
"And yet, you keep talking to me."
Courtney smiled, not forced, not careful, real.
Renz noticed everything, the way she didn't hesitate, the way she didn't hold back, the way she looked… okay better than okay and that did something to him.
"Renz." Her voice cut through everything, soft but enough. Courtney had seen him. Of course she had. The smile on her face didn't disappear but it changed just slightly, more controlled, less… free.
"Hi," she said, simple, neutral, not the same.
"Courtney," he replied. His voice sounded the same but it didn't feel the same.
A pause. "Oh—uh," the man beside her spoke, glancing between them. "Friend of yours?"
Courtney hesitated just for a second but it was enough. "Yes," she said finally.
The word felt… smaller than it should have.
Renz noticed. Of course he did.
"I'm Daniel," the man added, offering a hand casually.
Renz looked at it for a moment then shook it. "Renz."
A beat. Daniel smiled. "I've heard a lot about this place."
Renz's gaze flickered briefly to Courtney. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It has that effect."
Courtney cleared her throat slightly, stepping back toward the counter. "Do you… want something?" she asked.
The question felt loaded more than it should have been.
Renz looked at her then at the menu then back at her. "Yes," he said. A pause. "Caramel latte."
The words hung there, familiar, intentional.
Courtney's fingers tightened slightly around the cup she was holding.
"Okay," she replied. She turned, prepared the drink, same movements, same routine but everything felt different now because now there was someone else watching.
Daniel leaned slightly against the counter again, glancing at Renz. "So, how long have you been coming here?" he asked casually.
Renz didn't look at him. "Long enough."
Daniel nodded. "Yeah, I get that. It kind of grows on you."
Another pause. Renz finally glanced at him.
"Does it?"
Daniel smiled, unfazed. "Yeah. Good coffee. Good company."
That landed exactly the way it wasn't supposed to. Courtney set the cup down between them.
"Here," she said.
Renz reached for it, their fingers didn't touch this time that didn't go unnoticed, he took a sip, same taste, same warmth, same everything except it didn't feel the same because now he wasn't the only one who knew it.
"I was just telling Courtney," Daniel said, "I might start coming earlier. Beat the crowd."
Courtney glanced at him. "You don't have to plan your coffee schedule."
"I like planning things I enjoy."
Another pause. Renz set the cup down slowly.
"You should," he said, both of them looked at him. "Things that matter," he added quietly, "don't wait around."
Silence. Courtney's chest tightened slightly because she knew that wasn't just a comment.
Daniel glanced between them, sensing the shift. "Well," he said lightly, "I'll let you two catch up." He turned to Courtney with an easy smile. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
Courtney hesitated just for a second then nodded. "Yeah."
"Good," Daniel said and just like that, he left.
The bell chimed again, the door closed and the air changed again.
Courtney exhaled slowly, turning back to the counter. "You didn't have to do that," she said quietly.
"Do what?" Renz asked.
"That," she replied. "The comment."
"It wasn't wrong."
"That doesn't make it necessary."
Silence. Renz stepped closer not too close but enough.
"You've moved on," he said.
Courtney froze. "That's not what this is," she replied.
"Then what is it?"
She didn't answer right away because she didn't know how to explain something she wasn't even sure of herself. "It's… easier," she admitted.
That word stayed. Renz nodded once, small, controlled. "Yeah," he said.
And for the first time, he felt it clearly not confusion, not hesitation, loss. Because easy? That was never what they were and maybe that was the problem.
Courtney looked at him carefully. "You shouldn't have come back like this."
"Like what?"
"When things are different," she said.
Renz held her gaze. "They were always going to be." A pause. "That doesn't mean they had to be replaced."
Courtney's chest tightened. "I didn't replace you," she said softly.
Renz didn't respond not right away because part of him wasn't sure if that was true. And that uncertainty? That was worse than anything else.
- Writer
