I guess he just didn't want me. Not the way I want him.
Elias
She hadn't planned to come back.
But she'd left her psych book at his house the last time she came over to prep for her presentation—and apparently, it never made it into her bag.
Now it was sitting on his kitchen counter. Waiting.
Just like everything else she thought she'd outgrown.
He noticed it the morning after.
Spine bent. Corners folded. A sticky note with her handwriting peeking out from chapter six.
He stared at it too long.
Told himself he'd drop it off. Or text her.
Or at least put it in a bag and leave it by the door so he'd stop… looking at it.
But it stayed.
Because part of him—
The part that was already unraveling—
Was stupidly, quietly, desperately hoping she'd come back for it herself.
And when the knock came three days later—
He already knew. Before he even opened the door.
Of course it was her.
Liana
It was supposed to be a quick stop.
She just needed the book she left behind.
A psych reference stuffed with notes, page flags, and a dog-eared tab she refused to lose.
Alex was working late. The house was on her route home.
She didn't tell him she was coming. Didn't expect him to be there.
She was wrong.
Elias opened the door before she even raised her hand to knock.
They both froze.
Then she cleared her throat. "I—left something. Alex said she texted you?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
But he didn't move. Didn't step back. Didn't open the door fully.
Just stood there, like his body forgot what it was supposed to do.
Her heart tripped.
"I can come back if it's a bad time—"
"No." His voice came too fast. "Come in."
The house looked the same.
But something about the air felt heavier. Denser.
Like memory and silence had thickened the walls.
He walked ahead of her into the kitchen, picked up the book, then paused before handing it over.
"Was this worth walking here for?" he asked.
She shrugged. "It has all my notes."
He didn't smile. She didn't either.
Silence stretched.
Then she asked, too softly—"Did you get my message?"
His jaw twitched.
She didn't push.
He handed her the book. Their fingers brushed. Just barely.
But it was enough.
Static.
He pulled back—Too slow.
She noticed.
"You didn't have to answer," she said. "I just… wanted you to see it."
"I saw it."
Their eyes met.
And this time, neither of them looked away.
It wasn't anger. Wasn't guilt.
Just—everything else.
Years of quiet things finally clawing toward the surface.
She took a breath. So did he.
Then—
"You've been avoiding me."
He didn't deny it. And she didn't wait for an excuse.
Her hand drifted toward his. Not bold. Not confident.
Just searching.
She touched his knuckles. Light. Barely there.
He tensed. But didn't pull away.
She looked up. "Elias."
He closed his eyes. "Don't."
Her hand stayed. Shaking.
She pulled back a little. Just enough to breathe.
"Do I make you uncomfortable?"
His throat moved. "No."
"Then why won't you look at me?"
He opened his eyes.
And the way he looked at her—
Like he was barely holding himself together—
Told her everything she needed to know.
She blinked. Tried to smile. But her mouth trembled.
"You don't have to say anything," she whispered. "I just needed to know."
Then she stepped back. Carefully. Quietly.
And walked to the door.
Elias didn't follow. Didn't breathe.
Only stared at the space she'd left behind. Chest tight. Pulse wrecked.
Every part of him screaming to go after her.
But he stayed.
Because if he touched her now— He wouldn't stop.
And he'd never forgive himself for that.