I couldn't sleep.
The silence left behind after Ken walked out was too loud. It crawled into my pillows, clung to the corners of my ceiling, settled into the curve of my spine like a weight i couldn't shrug off.
So i did what any emotionally constipated adult would do.
I opened a soda, turned off all the lights except one lamp, and sat in the middle of my living room floor with absolutely no plan.
I wanted to cry. But nothing came out.
It wasn't even heartbreak. I wasn't allowed to call it that. It was something more pathetic, like confusion mixed with a bruise that hadn't decided if it hurt yet.
Around midnight, I got up. Walked in circles. Paced. Stared at the microwave clock like it owed me answers.
Then i noticed something.
Faint light coming from the rooftop.
Ken.
I should've ignored it. Let him be. We already had our moment, our miscommunication, our almost.
But i went anyway.
Because i was stupid like that.
The rooftop was colder than i expected.
There he was sitting on that old foldable lawn chair someone left behind years ago, hoodie up, knees pulled close, staring at the screen of his phone. A soft glow lit up his face, and… he was smiling.
Laughing, actually.
Quiet but real.
I didn't know why my stomach sank until i heard it.
A voice.
Not his.
Not mine.
Female. Sweet. Loud in that way that made people listen.
"—and then i told him, 'Dude, that's not a taco, that's a folded pizza!'"
Celine.
He was watching videos of her. Old ones, maybe.
The kind that made you nostalgic for a version of someone that probably doesn't exist anymore.
I froze.
Half out the door, half in my feelings.
His smile lingered even after the clip ended.
And that's when he saw me.
I didn't move. Just met his eyes. Tried to pretend i hadn't seen what i saw.
That i wasn't suddenly way too aware of the ache in my throat.
"Hey," he said, like nothing was wrong.
Like he wasn't watching someone else.
Thinking about someone else.
I walked forward, slow, controlled.
Sat on the ledge a few feet away.
Silence stretched between us again, heavy and loose at the same time.
"What are you watching?" I asked, even though i already knew.
He glanced at his phone, then locked it. "Nothing important."
Right.
I picked at a loose thread on my hoodie.
"Do you…" My voice came out quieter than intended. "Do you like her?"
Ken didn't answer.
He looked out into the skyline like it could distract him.
Like if he stared hard enough at the blinking lights, he wouldn't have to speak.
But silence was an answer too.
I felt something twist in my chest.
Not quite jealousy, not quite pain. Just… something.
And i hated that i felt it.
Because i wasn't supposed to care this much.
He still didn't speak.
Just breathed.
Deeply. Slowly.
I forced a laugh, the kind that didn't sound anything like humor. "Wow. Okay."
Still nothing.
God, he was good at this. At saying everything with his silence. And me? I was just here, always trying to catch up to whatever the hell he was thinking.
"You know," I muttered, standing up, "it's fine if you do. Like her. Celine, I mean. I just wish you'd admit it."
Ken looked up at me then.
There was something sharp in his eyes. Not anger. Not guilt either.
Just honesty.
"She was there when no one else was," he said softly. "When things got bad, she stayed."
I nodded, arms crossed even though i didn't need the warmth.
"That's fair."
He opened his mouth to say something else. But i shook my head before he could.
"I should go."
"Cass—"
"Don't," I cut him off. "It's fine. Really. I shouldn't have asked."
He stood, took a step forward like he wanted to stop me, but i was already halfway to the door.
"Goodnight, Ken," I said without looking back.
I made it to my apartment, locked the door behind me, and leaned against it.
And that's when it hit me.
I wasn't angry.
I was scared.
Scared that maybe i was too late.
That someone else had already taken the part of him i was just beginning to want.
That maybe whatever we had the glances, the tension, the kisses wasn't real enough to compete with memory.
I lay in bed that night, wide awake, listening to the quiet hum of my air conditioner.
And for the first time since i met Ken, I wished i had met him sooner.
Before the hurt.
Before Celine.
Before i started feeling things i didn't know what to do with.
Because now?
Now i wasn't sure if i was someone he could ever choose.
Or if i was just a placeholder.
Until something like her came back.