Ian didn't say anything else.
He just nodded slowly.
Not in agreement.
Not in forgiveness.
Just… acceptance.
"I need some space," he said quietly.
Janice felt her chest tighten. "Space?"
"For tonight," he added quickly. "I just need to think."
"That sounds like goodbye," she whispered.
"It's not," he replied.
But it didn't sound convincing.
Mia looked away, guilt all over her face. The guy across the street finally seemed uncomfortable.
Ian stepped back again.
This time, he didn't stop.
"Text me when you get home," he said softly.
Softly.
Like he still cared.
Which somehow hurt more.
Janice watched him turn around.
Every step he took felt like something inside her was being pulled with him.
"Ian," she called.
He paused.
But he didn't turn around.
For a second, she thought he might come back.
Instead, he said, "I just don't want to fight for something if I'm the only one protecting it."
And then he walked away.
The street suddenly felt too big.
Too empty.
Mia touched Janice's arm gently. "He'll calm down."
But Janice wasn't sure.
Because sometimes space isn't just space.
Sometimes…
It's the beginning of distance.
And distance?
That's how people lose each other.