The next morning, I woke up feeling strangely light. The tight knot of anger in my stomach was gone. He'd called. He'd admitted he was wrong. He sounded… human. I replayed the message twice, listening to the uncertainty in his voice. I am… learning.
I got ready for class with a small, careful plan in mind. I'd call him back after my last lecture. Maybe we'd video chat. We'd talk. Really talk. I'd explain why it felt suffocating.. He'd listen. We'd figure it out.
But as the day went on, something started to feel off. He said he was coming back last night. He said he wanted to talk. And now, nothing. No good morning text. No follow-up call.
That old, paranoid part of my brain, the one he'd accidentally fed, whispered: He changed his mind. He realized it was too much work. You were too difficult. He's done.
I pushed the thought away. He was Aaron Blackwood. If he changed his mind, he'd say it clearly. He wouldn't just disappear. …Right?
