Chapter Six — The Space Between Us
1817 Words
I spent the entire drive home telling myself I hadn't meant it.
What if I meant it?
I had meant it.
That was the problem.
I parked outside my apartment, turned off the engine, and stared through the windscreen.
For ten minutes.
Maybe fifteen.
I wasn't sure.
My reflection stared back at me from the dark glass.
“You're thirty,” I whispered.
The reflection looked unimpressed.
“You have a master's degree.”
Still unimpressed.
“You are a grown woman.”
Apparently that one was debatable.
I dropped my head against the steering wheel.
I was falling for my manual lymph drainage therapist.
My therapist.
Not a man I had met at a bar.
Not someone I'd gone on three dates with.
Not someone who had bought me flowers and told me I was beautiful.
Noah.
The man who had made it very clear there was a boundary.
The man who was kind to me without expecting anything in return.
The man who had looked at me as if my body wasn't something I needed to apologise for.
And maybe that was why I couldn't stop thinking about him.
That thought hurt more than it should have.
Because what if I wasn't actually in love with Noah?
What if I was in love with the way I felt around him?
Safe.
Seen.
Comfortable.
Wanted without being chased.
What if I had become so used to terrible men that basic kindness felt like chemistry?
I closed my eyes.
“Oh, brilliant.”
I had finally found a decent man.
And now I couldn't trust my own judgment enough to know whether I actually wanted him.
───
The next morning, Maya took one look at me and sighed.
“No.”
I frowned.
“No what?”
“You're doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you pretend you're fine while looking like you haven't slept.”
“I slept.”
“How long?”
I thought about it.
“Technically?”
She pointed at me.
“Exactly.”
I grabbed my coffee.
“I may have made a mistake.”
“What did you do?”
I hesitated.
Then whispered,
“I told Noah his eyes were ridiculous.”
Maya stared at me.
“That doesn't sound like a mistake.”
“I also told him I might be attracted to him.”
Her eyes widened.
“You what?”
“I didn't exactly say that.”
“Lena.”
“I implied it.”
“You implied it?”
“He asked if I wasn't attracted to him.”
“And?”
“And I said I didn't say that.”
Maya slowly put down her cup.
“Girl.”
“I know.”
“No. I don't think you do.”
I groaned.
“I don't know what I'm doing.”
Maya's expression softened.
“Do you like him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel safe with him?”
“Yes.”
“Then what's the problem?”
I looked away.
“I don't know if I like him.”
Maya went quiet.
“I mean, I do. Obviously. But…”
“But?”
“What if I just like how he makes me feel?”
She studied me.
“That doesn't make your feelings fake.”
“It might.”
“No.”
“I've made terrible choices before.”
“I know.”
“Daniel. Marcus. Jason…”
“Please don't start listing your exes.”
“They're evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“That I have terrible taste in men.”
Maya laughed softly.
“Or maybe you've just been choosing people who confirmed what you already believed about yourself.”
I frowned.
“What do I believe about myself?”
“That you have to earn love.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
I looked down at my coffee.
Maya continued quietly.
“And maybe Noah scares you because he doesn't make you earn it.”
I swallowed.
“That's ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
I didn't answer.
Because maybe it wasn't.
───
At ten o'clock, I stood outside the clinic.
My hand hovered over the door.
I could leave.
I could cancel.
I could send a message saying I wasn't feeling well.
I could avoid those blue eyes for an entire week.
Maybe two.
Maybe forever.
I opened the door.
Noah looked up.
For half a second, his expression changed.
Relief.
Then professionalism settled back into place.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
He studied me.
“You okay?”
“Perfect.”
One eyebrow lifted.
“Right.”
I sighed.
“I'm fine.”
“Okay.”
No questions.
No pushing.
Somehow, that made it worse.
I followed him into the treatment room.
We went through the usual process.
I changed.
Wrapped myself securely in the towel.
And lay down.
The treatment began.
Professional.
Gentle.
Familiar.
But everything felt different.
Every time Noah spoke, I became painfully aware of him.
Every time our eyes met briefly, I looked away.
Every silence felt enormous.
Finally, he spoke.
“You're quiet today.”
“I'm thinking.”
“That can be dangerous.”
I smiled despite myself.
“See? That's why I like you.”
Silence.
I froze.
Noah stopped for half a second.
Then continued professionally.
“You should be careful with that.”
I closed my eyes.
“I'm trying.”
“I know.”
There was something in his voice.
Something gentle.
And that made my chest ache.
───
After the treatment, I changed and returned to the room.
Noah was standing near the counter.
I stopped several feet away.
“I think I need to tell you something.”
His expression became serious.
“Okay.”
“I've been thinking about stopping the treatments.”
His jaw tightened.
But he didn't interrupt.
I continued.
“Not because they're not helping.”
“I understand.”
“And not because you've done anything wrong.”
“I understand.”
“I just…”
I looked down.
“I don't trust myself right now.”
That finally made him move.
Not closer.
Just enough to lean against the counter.
“What do you mean?”
I laughed nervously.
“This is the part where I sound insane.”
“You've never sounded insane.”
“Give me time.”
He smiled faintly.
I took a breath.
“I've spent years choosing the wrong men.”
He said nothing.
“I ignored red flags. I accepted things I shouldn't have. I convinced myself that if someone hurt me, maybe I had done something to deserve it.”
His expression softened.
“And now you…”
I stopped.
“Now you treat me like I'm worth something.”
His eyes held mine.
“You are.”
My throat tightened.
“And I don't know if I'm attracted to you because you're you…”
I swallowed.
“Or because you're the first man in a long time who makes me feel safe.”
Noah didn't answer immediately.
He looked at me carefully.
Then said,
“Maybe you don't have to know yet.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“You don't have to decide what this is.”
“But what if I'm wrong?”
“Then you're wrong.”
“That doesn't sound very comforting.”
“It wasn't supposed to be.”
I laughed softly.
He smiled.
“But Lena…”
His voice became quieter.
“You don't owe me an answer.”
I stared at him.
“And I don't want you making a decision because you think you need to protect me.”
My heart squeezed.
“Then what do you want?”
He looked at me for a long moment.
“I want you to be okay.”
Simple.
Three words.
They shouldn't have hurt.
But they did.
Because I believed him.
───
I picked up my bag.
“So what happens now?”
“You continue treatment if you want to.”
“And if I don't?”
“I'll respect that.”
I nodded.
That was it.
No convincing.
No disappointment.
No guilt.
Just respect.
And somehow, that was the thing that made me want to stay.
I reached for the door.
“Lena?”
I turned.
Noah was watching me.
“If you decide to stop coming, don't think it means you've failed.”
My eyes burned.
“You don't know how badly I needed to hear that.”
“I think I do.”
I smiled.
Then walked out.
───
I sat in my car for almost twenty minutes.
I didn't start the engine.
I just sat there.
Thinking.
Noah hadn't chased me.
He hadn't tried to convince me that I belonged with him.
He hadn't flirted.
He hadn't crossed the line.
He had simply listened.
And somehow, that made me want him more.
But there was another voice inside my head now.
A quieter one.
One I wasn't used to hearing.
Maybe this isn't about whether Noah wants you.
I stared at myself in the mirror.
Maybe it's about whether you finally want yourself.
The thought scared me.
Because wanting myself meant I couldn't blame my choices on bad men anymore.
It meant I had to look at why I'd accepted so little.
Why I'd believed criticism.
Why I'd confused attention with affection.
Why I'd allowed people to convince me that being difficult to love was the same thing as being difficult to love correctly.
I touched my cheek.
For the first time in a long time, I didn't immediately look for something wrong.
I just looked.
At me.
Not Noah.
Not Daniel.
Not the men who had walked away.
Me.
And maybe that was where this story actually began.
Not with falling for Noah.
But with learning who I was before I decided whether I could love him.
My phone buzzed.
I glanced down.
A message from Noah.
My heart jumped.
Then I frowned.
It wasn't what I expected.
Noah:Don't forget your next appointment is Thursday.
I stared at it.
Then laughed.
Of course.
Clinical.
Professional.
Completely Noah.
I typed a reply.
Deleted it.
Typed another.
Deleted that too.
Finally, I sent:
Me:I'll be there.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
A moment later:
Noah:Good.
I stared at that one word.
My heart shouldn't have reacted.
But it did.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure whether the most dangerous thing between us was the attraction.
Maybe it was the possibility that, slowly and painfully, I was learning to believe I deserved something better.
Even if that something wasn't Noah.
Especially if it wasn't.
Because if I ever chose him…
I wanted it to be because I loved him.
Not because I needed him to prove I was lovable.
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