He didn't leave that night.
But he didn't come to me either.
Lights were on at one end of the house, darkness at the other.
I stayed in the dark. On purpose.
I sat alone in the living room.
Curled into the corner of the couch, as if making myself smaller might quiet my thoughts.
It didn't.
I didn't hear the door close.
Or his footsteps.
But I felt his absence.
In this house, his presence was always heavy.
His absence was heavier.
Hours passed.
I watched the city through the window—lights moving, life continuing.
I remained still.
I didn't blame myself.
Not for thinking about him.
I was just surprised…
by how quickly it had happened.
The door opened quietly.
I didn't look up.
"You're not asleep," he said.
It wasn't a question.
"Neither are you," I replied.
He didn't come closer.
He sat in the chair across from me. A table between us.
A safe distance.
"I needed to stay away tonight," he said.
"Why?" I asked.
My voice was gentle. Not wounded.
"Because," he paused,
"when I'm near you, I make the wrong decisions."
I rested my hands on my knees.
My fingers intertwined.
"That's not wrong," I said.
"Sometimes the right things are just frightening."
He lifted his head and looked at me.
His gaze was tired. Not angry. Not dangerous.
Human.
"Don't change me," he said.
I smiled—a small smile.
"I'm not changing anyone," I said.
"I'm just standing where I am."
We were silent for a while.
Then he stood.
Paused as he passed by me.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly,
"you're coming with me."
I looked up.
This time, there was no defiance.
"Okay," I said.
He left.
But this time…
Leaving didn't feel like running away.
He didn't leave that night.
But he didn't come to me either.
Lights were on at one end of the house, darkness at the other.
I stayed in the dark. On purpose.
I sat alone in the living room.
Curled into the corner of the couch, as if making myself smaller might quiet my thoughts.
It didn't.
I didn't hear the door close.
Or his footsteps.
But I felt his absence.
In this house, his presence was always heavy.
His absence was heavier.
Hours passed.
I watched the city through the window—lights moving, life continuing.
I remained still.
I didn't blame myself.
Not for thinking about him.
I was just surprised…
by how quickly it had happened.
The door opened quietly.
I didn't look up.
"You're not asleep," he said.
It wasn't a question.
"Neither are you," I replied.
He didn't come closer.
He sat in the chair across from me. A table between us.
A safe distance.
"I needed to stay away tonight," he said.
"Why?" I asked.
My voice was gentle. Not wounded.
"Because," he paused,
"when I'm near you, I make the wrong decisions."
I rested my hands on my knees.
My fingers intertwined.
"That's not wrong," I said.
"Sometimes the right things are just frightening."
He lifted his head and looked at me.
His gaze was tired. Not angry. Not dangerous.
Human.
"Don't change me," he said.
I smiled—a small smile.
"I'm not changing anyone," I said.
"I'm just standing where I am."
We were silent for a while.
Then he stood.
Paused as he passed by me.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly,
"you're coming with me.
I looked up.
This time, there was no defiance.
"Okay," I said.
He left.
But this time…
Leaving didn't feel like running away.