Falling without knowing,
Falling without admitting it.
Episode 5: Falling Without Admitting It
Coco didn't tell Brian about the email.
She reread it every morning like it might change if she stared long enough.
Six weeks.
Six weeks until the writing program began. Six weeks until her life tilted in a direction she'd been working toward for years. Six weeks until the future she'd always imagined demanded she step forward.
Six weeks until she might have to walk away from the one thing she hadn't planned for.
So she did what she had always done best.
She compartmentalized.
---
1. Silence as a Strategy
The days after their argument settled into a careful, brittle quiet.
They still worked together. They still spoke. They still shared space.
But everything meaningful stayed just out of reach.
Coco arrived early to class. Brian arrived exactly on time. They sat side by side without touching, eyes forward, voices low and controlled. Conversations revolved around deadlines, citations, structure. Nothing personal. Nothing dangerous.
She hated how much effort it took.
"Your transition here is strong," Brian said one afternoon, pointing at her screen.
"Thanks," she replied without looking at him.
He waited, like he always did, for something more.
It never came.
Brian leaned back, hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling for a moment before standing. "I'm going to grab coffee. Want one?"
"No," she said too quickly. "I'm fine."
He nodded, accepting the distance even when it clearly cost him something.
That was the worst part.
Brian never punished her for pulling away.
He respected it.
And somehow, that made her want to scream.
---
2. Loving Him in Details
Coco started noticing the small things she wished she didn't.
How Brian always held the door for strangers without thinking about it. How he listened with his entire body—leaning in, still, focused. How he never interrupted her, even when he disagreed.
She learned how he took his coffee without asking. How he hated talking on the phone but loved long conversations in person. How he always reread her sentences before commenting, as if honoring them.
She loved him in fragments.
And that felt safer than loving him out loud.
At night, she wrote.
Not stories. Not essays.
Confessions she never planned to share.
I think I love you, she wrote once, then crossed it out so hard the page tore.
I don't know how to choose between the life I dreamed of and the one that found me.
She closed the notebook and hid it under her bed like it could expose her if left out.
---
3. Brian's Waiting
Brian felt the shift even if he didn't name it.
He recognized emotional retreat. He'd lived inside it once.
He knew Coco was protecting herself. He just didn't know from what—or from how much time.
He missed her laugh. Missed the way she used to argue with him like it mattered. Missed the almost-kiss that haunted him more than any actual one ever could.
One night, he typed out a message.
I'm not afraid anymore.
He deleted it.
Another:
If you're leaving, tell me. Don't let me guess.
Deleted.
Finally, he sent nothing.
Waiting, he was learning, could be its own form of love.
---
4. Almost Reaching for Each Other
They ended up alone in the library again one evening, both pretending it was coincidence.
Coco felt his presence before he spoke.
"You look tired," Brian said quietly.
"So do you," she replied.
They sat across from each other this time. Safer. More controlled.
"I heard the program start date might be changing," he said casually.
Her heart slammed.
"Oh?" she managed.
"Yeah. Someone mentioned it."
She nodded slowly. "Things change."
Brian studied her face. "Is that all you're going to say?"
She met his gaze. "What do you want me to say?"
"The truth," he said. "Even if it's inconvenient."
Her chest tightened.
"I don't know what the truth is yet," she whispered.
"That scares me," he admitted.
"It scares me too."
For a moment, it felt like they might reach across the table.
They didn't.
---
5. The Weight of Time
The presentation went well. Too well.
They moved in sync, finishing each other's thoughts, reading cues effortlessly. People noticed.
"You two work really well together," someone said afterward.
Coco smiled politely.
Brian didn't.
Because working well together wasn't the same as being okay.
Later that night, Coco opened her email again.
Six weeks became five.
She imagined packing. Leaving. Starting over.
And the thought didn't thrill her the way it used to.
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6. The Moment That Breaks the Illusion
The breaking point came quietly.
Brian found her sitting on the campus steps, notebook open but unread.
"Hey," he said.
She looked up, eyes glassy. "Hey."
He sat beside her without touching.
"You're counting down," he said gently.
Her breath hitched. "I don't want to hurt you."
"By leaving?" he asked.
"By staying," she replied.
He turned to her fully then. "Coco… I don't need promises. I just need honesty."
She swallowed.
"I'm falling in love with you," she said. "And I don't know how to survive that and still leave."
Brian closed his eyes for a moment.
Then he said the thing that undid her.
"Then don't decide alone."
Tears spilled over before she could stop them.
---
7. Loving Without Permission
They didn't fix anything that night.
They sat close. Talked quietly. Shared space like it was precious.
Brian brushed her knuckles with his thumb once—barely there.
Coco leaned into him instinctively.
And for a while, they let themselves exist without naming what they were becoming.
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8. The Cliffhanger
That night, Coco typed a reply to the program coordinator.
Her finger hovered over the keyboard.
She didn't hit send.
Instead, she opened a new message.
To Brian.
If I stay… I need to know you won't disappear when things get hard.
The message stayed unsent.
Because love, she was learning, wasn't just about choosing someone.
It was about trusting they would choose you back.