I stopped checking my phone.
Not because I didn't care.
But because caring too much was exhausting.
Every notification used to make my heart jump.
Now?
I muted everything.
Instagram. WhatsApp. Even calls.
Peace felt better than hope.
Hope is dangerous.
Hope makes you expect things.
And expectations are where disappointment is born.
So I chose quiet.
It had been a week.
Seven whole days.
No Ethan.
No late night calls.
No random "did you eat?" texts.
No "send me your location, I'm outside."
Nothing.
And I hated how my body was slowly adjusting to life without him.
Like he was just a habit I was breaking.
Like he didn't matter that much.
But he did.
God, he did.
That's what scared me.
How can someone mean so much… and still not be yours?
Saturday evening, I was helping my aunt close her small fabric shop downtown.
Normal day.
Normal life.
Folding clothes. Counting cash. Sweeping the floor.
Boring.
Safe.
No drama.
Maybe this is what peace looks like, I thought.
Then my cousin rushed in from outside.
"Mira!"
I didn't even look up. "What?"
"There's some guy outside asking for you."
My heart skipped.
Stupid heart.
Don't start.
"Tell him wrong person," I said.
She frowned. "He said your full name though. And he looks… stressed."
I froze.
Full name?
Nobody uses my full name.
Except—
No.
Don't assume.
I wiped my hands on my jeans and walked outside casually.
Like I wasn't panicking.
Like my chest wasn't doing backflips.
Then I saw him.
Leaning against his car.
Hands in his hair.
Pacing.
Looking like he hadn't slept in days.
Ethan.
My breath caught.
He looked thinner.
Tired.
Eyes red like sleep and peace both abandoned him.
For a second, I just stood there.
Watching him.
And my stupid heart whispered,
You missed him.
He saw me.
Everything stopped.
The street noise faded.
Cars.
People.
Voices.
Gone.
It was just us.
Again.
Like always.
He walked toward me fast.
Not running.
But almost.
Like if he slowed down, he'd lose courage.
"What are you doing here?" I asked quietly.
Not cold.
Just careful.
Like talking to fire.
"I needed to see you," he said.
His voice was rough.
Lower than usual.
"You could've texted."
"I did. Like ten times. You muted me, didn't you?"
…oops.
I looked away.
He sighed.
"Of course you did."
We stood there awkwardly.
Two people who used to talk for hours now struggling to say basic sentences.
"I shouldn't be here long," I said. "Shop's closing."
"Good," he said quickly.
I frowned. "Good?"
"Because if I had more time, I'd probably overthink and say everything wrong."
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
That sounded like him.
Messy. Honest. No filter.
He stepped closer.
Not touching me.
Just close enough that I could smell his cologne.
Same one.
Why does he still smell the same?
"That day," he started, "when you told me to choose…"
My chest tightened.
"Yeah?"
"I hated you a little."
That surprised me.
"What?"
"Because you were right."
Silence.
"I kept thinking you were being dramatic," he continued. "But every day without you… everything felt off. Food tasted boring. Music annoyed me. Even Lena noticed."
My eyes lifted at that.
"She what?"
"She told me I looked miserable."
I blinked.
"She literally said, 'If you don't go fight for that girl, you're stupid.'"
…wait.
"What?"
He nodded.
"She told me to stop hiding behind the past."
That hit different.
Lena… said that?
"I kept asking myself why I couldn't let go," he said. "And I realized something."
He looked straight at me.
No hesitation this time.
No confusion.
Just clarity.
"I wasn't holding onto her because I loved her."
My heart started racing.
"I was holding onto her because I was scared to start over."
My throat went dry.
"She was familiar. Safe. History. But you…" he swallowed, "you're the future. And that terrified me."
God.
Why does he talk like this?
Why does he always say exactly what breaks me?
"I don't want safe anymore," he said quietly. "I want real."
My eyes stung.
"Ethan…"
"No, let me finish," he rushed. "Because if I stop now, I'll lose my nerve."
He took a breath.
"I told her today that we need space. Proper space. No daily calls. No emotional crutches. Nothing. I closed that door."
My heart skipped.
"You did?"
"Yes."
"Because of me?"
"Because of me," he corrected. "Because I finally decided."
That word again.
Decided.
Not confused.
Not trying.
Decided.
He stepped even closer.
Now we were inches apart.
"If I don't fight for you," he said softly, "I lose you. And I'm not ready to lose you."
My brain screamed don't melt don't melt don't melt.
Too late.
"You said choose you," he whispered.
My heart pounded.
"So…"
His fingers brushed mine slowly.
Gentle.
Careful.
Like asking permission.
"I'm choosing you, Mira."
Silence.
The world stopped again.
This was the moment.
The exact moment I'd imagined a hundred times at night.
But now that it was real?
It was terrifying.
Because what if we break again?
What if this hurts worse next time?
Love always sounds beautiful.
Until you remember the risk.
He looked at me like he was waiting for a verdict.
Like I had the power to save or destroy him.
And honestly?
I hated that.
Because he had the same power over me.
"So…" he asked softly, "am I too late?"