Against Dr. Gadot's advice, Nia agreed to a second date with Marcus.
She told herself it was closure. That she needed to confront him, hear his side, and finally move on.
But when she showed up at the rooftop lounge he suggested, she realized—she wasn't moving on. She was chasing.
Marcus greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and a smile that should've been illegal.
"I missed you," he said.
Right on cue.
They spent the next few hours drinking and dancing, talking and teasing. He apologized for the silence, blamed work stress, and promised it wouldn't happen again. His touch was intoxicating. His attention, addictive.
By the end of the night, he whispered, "Let's not waste time, okay? I really like you, Nia."
She melted.
And just like that, she gave him another chance.
---
**The Pull of the Past**
As they sat at the bar overlooking the city skyline, sipping overpriced cocktails and laughing at inside jokes only they understood, Nia felt the familiar tug in her chest—the one that always came before heartbreak.
It was subtle at first, like the first crack in a windshield. A whisper of doubt buried beneath the rush of dopamine.
She had done this before.
Fallen for the charm.
Believed the promises.
Allowed herself to be swept away by a man who made her feel seen, even if only temporarily.
And yet, here she was again.
This time, though, she knew better.
Dr. Gadot's voice echoed in her mind from their last session:
'You're drawn to men who mirror your childhood wounds. You equate excitement with love. And until you learn to find comfort in consistency, you'll keep repeating the cycle."
Nia took a slow sip of her drink, watching Marcus through slightly narrowed eyes.
He looked exactly the same as he had the first night they met—tailored chinos, crisp button-down shirt, cologne that smelled like sandalwood and trouble. His dimples still flashed when he smiled. His laugh still carried that effortless confidence.
Everything about him screamed stability—at least on the surface.
But underneath?
That was where the cracks lived.
---
**The Game They Both Played**
"You were quiet earlier," Marcus said suddenly, setting down his glass. "Is everything okay?"
Nia hesitated. "Just thinking."
He leaned in slightly, resting his elbow on the table. "About what?"
She studied him. "About why I'm here."
His smile faltered for just a second before he recovered. "Because you wanted to see me."
"That's what I told myself."
"And now?"
She exhaled slowly. "Now I'm wondering if I'm making a mistake."
Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "You always overthink things, don't you?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Is that what I do?"
He reached across the table, placing his hand over hers. "You're brilliant. Successful. Beautiful. But sometimes, you make things harder than they have to be."
Nia didn't pull away, but she didn't lean into his touch either.
Instead, she let his words settle around her like dust.
Yes, she overthought things.
Yes, she questioned people's intentions.
Yes, she searched for red flags before the relationship had even begun.
But was that paranoia?
Or was it protection?
She thought back to Elijah—the man she had once been engaged to. She had ignored the signs with him too. Told herself that love would change him. That commitment would ground him.
And then, when he walked away without explanation, she had spent years questioning whether she had loved him enough.
Maybe she had loved too much.
Maybe she had given more than she received.
Maybe she had built a life around someone who never truly showed up for her.
And now, here she was again.
With a man who had already proven he could disappear without warning.
Why did she keep doing this?
---
**A Flashback to Elijah**
Suddenly, the memory hit her like a wave.
Elijah standing in the doorway of their shared home, suitcase in hand.
Her heart racing.
Her voice trembling.
Herself asking, "Where are you going?"
His answer: "I need space."
Her begging, "Please talk to me."
His silence.
His walk out.
No goodbye.
No hug.
No final word.
Just the slam of the door behind him.
She remembered collapsing onto the floor afterward, sobbing into her hands, feeling like the world had been pulled out from under her.
She had spent weeks trying to reach him—calling, texting, leaving voicemails.
Eventually, she stopped.
Because she realized no matter how many times she reached out, he wasn't coming back.
And that pain—that gut-wrenching, soul-crushing pain—had stayed with her ever since.
Even now, sitting across from Marcus, she felt echoes of that loss.
The fear that he would vanish.
The knowledge that he might.
And the part of her that still believed she could fix it.
Still believed she could make him stay.
Still believed she was the problem.
---
**The Conversation That Changed Everything**
Back in the present, Marcus was watching her closely.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just… remembering something."
"What?"
She debated telling him the truth. Then decided to go with it.
"I was just thinking about my ex-fiancé."
Marcus's expression shifted—just slightly. Not quite surprise, not quite discomfort. Something in between.
"He left me," she continued. "Without a real explanation. One day, he was there. The next, he was gone."
Marcus remained silent, waiting.
"I spent months trying to understand what I did wrong," she admitted. "Trying to figure out what I could've done differently. If I had been more patient. More understanding. More loving."
She looked at him directly now.
"But eventually, I realized it wasn't about me. It was about him. He couldn't handle intimacy. Couldn't handle being vulnerable. And instead of working on himself, he walked away."
Marcus swallowed hard. "That sounds painful."
"It was."
Silence stretched between them.
Then she asked, "Are you going to leave me too?"
Marcus blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
He shook his head. "Nia, I just got here."
She tilted her head. "And what happens when things get real? When I ask for more than dinner and late-night texts? When I want more than just moments of presence followed by long stretches of silence?"
His jaw tightened. "You think I'm going to ghost you."
"I think you already did."
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I told you—I was overwhelmed with work."
"And now?"
"I'm right here."
She studied him. "For how long?"
Marcus didn't answer immediately.
And in that silence, she saw the truth.
He wasn't ready.
He wasn't willing.
And most importantly—he wasn't available.
Not emotionally.
Not mentally.
Not in any way that mattered.
---
**The Moment She Let Go**
Something shifted inside Nia in that moment.
It wasn't dramatic.
There was no shouting match.
No stormy exit.
Just clarity.
Pure, unshakable clarity.
She had spent her entire adult life chasing men who didn't know how to show up for her.
Men who offered excitement but not stability.
Passion but not presence.
Love—but only on their terms.
And she was tired.
So damn tired.
She sat back in her chair, pulling her hand away from his.
"I can't do this anymore," she said softly.
Marcus frowned. "Do what?"
"This." She gestured between them. "Chasing you. Trying to earn your affection. Wondering if you'll show up tomorrow or disappear for days."
He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up a hand.
"No more excuses. No more second chances. No more hoping you'll change because you said you might."
He looked genuinely surprised. "You're breaking up with me?"
She smiled faintly. "We weren't together."
He blinked. "Well, we could be."
Nia shook her head. "I deserve more than a maybe."
He started to speak again, but she stood up, smoothing her dress.
"I hope you find peace, Marcus. But it won't be with me."
And with that, she turned and walked away.
---
**The Walk Home**
The cool night air hit her face as she stepped outside, the city lights flickering around her like distant stars.
She didn't call a car.
She didn't text Lola.
She simply walked.
Through the streets.
Past the neon signs.
Beneath the moonlit sky.
And with every step, she felt lighter.
Freer.
Whole.
For the first time in a long time, she had chosen herself.
Not out of desperation.
Not out of loneliness.
But out of self-respect.
She thought back to what Dr. Gadot had said in therapy:
"You deserve to be cherished—not as a prize to be won, but as a person who gives love freely and receives it equally."
She was starting to believe it.
---
**Back to Therapy**
The following week, Nia sat across from Dr. Gadot, smiling.
"I broke it off with Marcus."
Dr. Gadot raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"I told him I deserved more than a maybe."
Dr. Gadot grinned. "That's powerful."
Nia nodded. "It felt powerful."
"And how does it feel now?"
Nia exhaled. "Honestly? Like I just stepped out of a fog I didn't realize I was in."
Dr. Gadot leaned forward. "Tell me about it."
Nia recounted the conversation at the rooftop lounge—the hesitation, the realization, the decision.
"I used to think I needed a man to complete me," she admitted. "Now I know I was whole all along. I just forgot to remind myself."
Dr. Gadot smiled. "That's healing."
Nia nodded. "It feels like healing."
---
**A New Message**
Later that evening, Nia checked her phone.
There was a message from Andre.
"Hey Nia. Hope you're having a good day. Thought I'd check in and see if you'd like to grab dinner sometime."
She stared at the screen.
This was different.
No games.
No disappearing acts.
No late-night texts followed by days of silence.
Just a simple, straightforward question.
And for once, she didn't hesitate.
She typed back:
"I'd like that very much. How about Friday?"
She hit send.
And for the first time in a long time, she wasn't chasing.
She was choosing.
And that, she realized, was the beginning of something new.