Page 29 of Lovesick

I never told him I wanted to talk. I never followed up. I never knocked on his door or lingered near his office. And he didn’t either.

We became polite strangers again. Some mornings we passed each other in the hall, and he’d nod with a half-smile that never reached his eyes. I returned it with the same flat professionalism.

He stopped asking for my input during meetings. Stopped pausing to explain the nuances of briefs like he used to. Stopped pretending I was anything more than just another set of hands on his schedule.

He accepted my silence.

Not like a man defeated.

But like a man who finally understood that forgiveness wasn’t something owed. And sometimes, not even something granted.

Maybe I could’ve sat him down. Looked him in the eye and said, “This is how you hurt me.” Maybe it would’ve brought closure. Maybe it would’ve helped him grow.

But I didn’t owe him that growth.

Not when I had to build mine on my own.

I had spent months making myself smaller, simpler, easier to be around, just so he wouldn’t pull away. And when he finally did, it had nothing to do with who I was and everything to do with who he refused to be.

So no, I didn’t talk to him.

I moved on.

Quietly.

Abruptly.

Just like he once did.

And that was the end of it.

At least for me.

Your decision led to Emilia and Dean not ending up together.

If you want to explore the other outcomes and see how the story could have unfolded differently, go back to Chapter 7 and make a different choice.

12

EMILIA

I decided to go talk to him when I walked into the office on Monday.

I didn’t feel ready, not entirely. But I also knew that waiting for the perfect moment was just another way to avoid it. And I was done avoiding things, especially my feelings.

The morning passed slowly, each meeting dragging into the next. I could feel his presence in every room we shared, though we didn’t speak. He didn’t look at me too long. He didn’t try. He was giving me space. Respecting the silence.

Maybe he thought I’d made my choice already.

Maybe he assumed my silence meant no.

And maybe I let him think that for too long.

By mid-afternoon, the knot in my stomach had turned to something else. Less fear, more determination. I closed my laptop and stood, heart pounding harder than I expected. I stepped out into the hallway and stepped toward his office.

I stared at the door, and I hesitated. I could’ve walked away. Could’ve gone to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, waited another week. Maybe changed my mind about talking to him. But I didn’t.

I knocked once.

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