Page 32 of Lovesick

I stopped trying to rewrite what happened between us into something softer. I didn’t make excuses for him anymore. Didn’t twist his regret into romance. Because regret wasn’t the same thing as love. Regret was easy. He could live in it for as long as he wanted. That wasn’t my responsibility anymore.

Instead, I focused on me.

I started working out more. I read more. Ate alone without feeling lonely. Reconnected with college friends I’d distanced myself from. I even started hanging out with Leann almost every weekend, but I never told her about Dean and me. I didn’t want to talk about what happened between us. I stopped giving him space in my head. At least as much as I could. It wasn’t perfect. Healing never is.

There were nights I’d still wake up remembering the way he looked at me that last day. Honest. Open. And I’d wonder if I’d made the right call.

But those thoughts never lasted long.

Because deep down, I knew he only opened up once it became clear I wasn’t waiting for him anymore. He only stepped forward once I stopped holding the door open for him. And I couldn’t be with someone who needed to lose me before they realized I was worth keeping.

So I didn’t return his gaze in meetings. I didn’t ask how he was doing or wonder what he did on the weekends. I let him live with the silence he created, and I got used to the sound of my own voice again. My real one. The one that didn’t shrink around his silence or soften around his approval.

I remembered what it was like to feel whole without being wanted.

The month went by fast. And with every passing day, I felt a little stronger. A little more certain that walking away was the best thing I could’ve done.

He stayed on his side of the line, and I stayed on mine.

And maybe that’s how it had to be.

Maybe some people only come into your life to teach you where your boundaries should be.

Dean taught me what I’d let slide for too long. And now, finally, I wasn’t letting anything slide anymore.

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.

14

EMILIA

And then, finally, I said, “Okay. One dinner.”

The words didn’t feel romantic or brave. They felt risky. Unearned. But I said them anyway.

His shoulders dropped, just slightly. He didn’t smile. Didn’t lean forward. He simply nodded, like he understood the weight of what I wasn’t saying.

I didn’t offer a date or time. I just stood, fingers curling into my palms, and walked out of his office before I could change my mind.

The rest of the day blurred past in a haze. I avoided the temptation to overthink it. To dissect every word, every expression, every part of me that still wanted to believe he meant it. That he’d really show up as the version of himself he never allowed me to see before things fell apart.

But I didn’t give that part of me too much airtime. Hope had gotten me into this mess once already.

Over the next few days, nothing between us changed on the surface. We kept things professional. Quick updates. Necessary emails. Glances that didn’t last long enough to mean anything. But there was a quiet awareness, a subtle tension between us now.

He didn’t bring up dinner again.

And that made it worse in a strange way. Because then it became mine to follow through on. Mine to set the terms.

I hated that.

I hated how, even now, I felt like I was leading the way while he hovered behind, waiting for permission to catch up.

Still, I picked a restaurant the following week. Somewhere no one from the office would go. I emailed him the details like it was a meeting.

He replied with a single line:I’ll be there. No expectations.

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