I hear the faint hum of a fan kicking somewhere in the mall. The sound is nothing, just background noise, but for some reason, I latch onto it, focus on it like it's the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. It's easier than looking at Mateo right now. Easier than facing the weight of his silence.
"I didn't take my meds," I repeat, softer this time, as if saying it again might make the moment less heavy. My chest tightens, and I keep my eyes trained on the floor, on the way the light bounces off the tiles. Anywhere but him.
This, this right here, is the part I've always dreaded. The moment where he realizes I come with too much baggage. The part where he backs off, says we're not a good fit, makes some excuse to soften the blow. But the truth will be there anyway: he doesn't want to be with someone who's a little more fucked up than he bargained for.
"Oh."
