The Distance She Chose
706 Words
The next day felt… lighter.
Or at least—
It was supposed to.
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Isolde walked a different route to work.
Not the usual one.
Not the one she had taken for months without thinking.
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This one was longer.
More crowded.
Less familiar.
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Safer.
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I’m overthinking this.
She tightened her grip on her bag slightly.
It was just a coincidence.
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But even as she told herself that—
She didn’t change back.
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At the hospital, everything felt normal again.
Patients.
Voices.
Routine.
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No strange questions.
No unsettling silence.
No intense gaze following her every move.
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Just work.
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And yet—
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“…You look tired.”
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Isolde blinked, glancing up at her colleague.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly.
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“You sure?”
A pause.
“…You’ve been distracted since yesterday.”
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Isolde forced a small smile.
“Just a long shift, that’s all.”
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Her colleague didn’t look convinced.
But she didn’t push further.
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And Isolde was grateful for that.
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Because she didn’t have an explanation.
Not one that made sense.
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The day passed.
Slowly.
Carefully.
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And for once—
He didn’t appear.
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Not in the hallways.
Not at the station.
Not anywhere.
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By the time her shift ended, Isolde felt something loosen in her chest.
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See?
It really was nothing.
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The evening air greeted her as she stepped outside.
Cool.
Calm.
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She exhaled softly.
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Maybe she had been imagining things.
Maybe she had just been tired.
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Maybe—
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She turned the corner.
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And stopped.
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There he was.
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Lucian stood a few steps ahead.
Not moving.
Not approaching.
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Just… there.
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Her heart stumbled.
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No…
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“This again?” she muttered under her breath.
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Slowly, she walked forward.
Each step more deliberate than the last.
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When she stopped in front of him, her brows were already drawn together.
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“…Why do I keep running into you?”
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Lucian looked at her.
Calm.
Unchanged.
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“You’re the one changing direction.”
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Her expression faltered.
“…What?”
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“You didn’t take your usual route today,” he continued.
“As well as yesterday evening.”
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A pause.
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Her grip tightened around her bag.
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“That doesn’t answer my question,” she said, her voice a little sharper now.
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Lucian didn’t react to the tone.
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“It does.”
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“It doesn’t,” she insisted.
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Silence stretched between them.
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Then—
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“…Are you avoiding me?”
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The question was simple.
Direct.
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Isolde froze.
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“…No.”
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Too quick.
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Lucian’s gaze didn’t change.
But something in it… settled.
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“I see.”
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He didn’t argue.
Didn’t press.
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And somehow—
That made it worse.
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“…You’re strange,” she said finally.
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“Yes.”
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Her lips parted slightly.
Caught off guard by the lack of denial.
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“…And you’re okay with that?”
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Lucian took a small step forward.
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Not enough to invade her space.
But enough to shift the air between them.
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“I don’t mind things that are inevitable.”
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Her chest tightened.
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“I’m not something inevitable,” she said, almost instinctively.
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A pause.
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For a brief moment—
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
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Then—
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“We’ll see.”
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The words were quiet.
But they stayed.
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Isolde exhaled, stepping back slightly.
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“I have to go,” she said.
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This time—
She didn’t wait for a response.
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She walked past him.
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Steady.
Controlled.
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But her thoughts—
Were anything but.
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Behind her—
Lucian didn’t follow.
Didn’t call out.
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He simply stood there.
Watching.
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Because now—
He didn’t need to chase.
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Not when she was already thinking about him.
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Isolde didn’t look back.
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But her steps felt different now.
Less certain.
Less steady.
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Because distance—
Was supposed to make things clearer.
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Not…
More confusing.
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- Writer
