the room had never felt so quiet. nikki sat on the edge of her bed with her phone resting loosely in both hands, the soft glow from the screen illuminating tired eyes that hadn't known real sleep in weeks. roman's name remained at the top of the conversation, and beneath it were the last five messages he'd sent only moments ago. she read them again. and then again. not because she'd missed something the first three times, but because each time they settled differently inside her chest. the first message made her ache. the second made her feel guilty. the third... the third one refused to leave her alone. i'm more hurt that you felt you couldn't come to me. it wasn't an accusation. that was the worst part. if roman had yelled — if he'd called her selfish, cowardly, unfair — she would have known what to do with that. she would have accepted it because she'd spent months saying those very things to herself. instead, he'd managed to say the one thing she'd spent months trying not to think about. he wasn't just hurt that she'd left. he was hurt because she'd never believed he'd stay. nikki closed her eyes. she could still remember the nights he'd sat beside her on the couch without saying a word, sensing she was overwhelmed before she'd admitted it herself. the mornings he'd noticed she'd skipped breakfast and quietly placed something in front of her anyway. the countless little moments where he'd shown up without being asked. roman had never been loud with his love. he was patient with it. he loved through consistency rather than declarations. and somehow... she had convinced herself that consistency had an expiration date. that one day he'd wake up, look at the complications that came with loving her, and decide she wasn't worth carrying anymore. it hadn't been something he'd said. it wasn't something he'd done. it was fear. her fear. old wounds dressed up as certainty. she had mistaken anxiety for intuition. her therapist had tried telling her that once. sometimes our minds become so determined to protect us that they start predicting pain before it exists. she hadn't believed it then. she believed it now. but now was too late. a shaky laugh escaped her. god. her voice sounded foreign inside the empty apartment. i really did decide for both of us. she dropped her head into her hands. how many nights had roman wondered what he'd done wrong? how many times had he picked up his phone only to realize there would be no reply?
how many explanations had he invented because she'd refused to give him the truth? the realization sat like lead in her stomach. she hadn't just broken his heart. she'd left him alone with questions he never deserved. her thumb hovered over the keyboard. she wanted to answer immediately. she wanted to explain everything. every panic attack. every sleepless night. every irrational certainty that she'd become too much. but the cursor blinked back at her. waiting. because explanations over text had gotten them nowhere. still... there was one thing she couldn't let him believe. she began typing. you deserved better. delete. i was terrified. delete. i loved you too much to watch you leave. delete. she stared at the blank message again. why was it so much easier to leave than to explain why she'd left? her phone buzzed in her hand. for a split second her heart jumped into her throat. roman? no. a weather notification. she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and laughed bitterly at herself. she was becoming ridiculous. she looked back at the conversation. roman had ended it. he was kind and respectful. he'd honored what they'd agreed. tomorrow. everything tomorrow. so why did she still feel like there was one sentence she needed him to hear tonight? her fingers moved before she could stop them.
[ SMS / CONTACT: roman / SENT ]: you're right.
she watched the small "delivered" appear beneath it. almost immediately she continued.
[ SMS / CONTACT: roman / SENT ]: we said we'd stop trying to have this conversation over text.
another pause. she rested her elbows on her knees, staring at the floor before typing once more.
[ SMS / CONTACT: roman / SENT ]: but there's one thing i don't want you carrying into tomorrow.
she hesitated longer this time. her heartbeat seemed impossibly loud in the silence. finally—
[ SMS / CONTACT: roman / SENT ]: you didn't fail me, roman.
the words hit her harder after she'd sent them. her eyes blurred. she swallowed against the lump in her throat. another message followed.
[ SMS / CONTACT: roman / SENT ]: i convinced myself that if i left first, it would hurt less than waiting for the day you stopped choosing me.
the confession she'd buried beneath months of silence. nikki stared at the screen. no typing bubble. of course not. he wasn't obligated to answer tonight. she set the phone face-down on the mattress beside her and leaned back against the headboard. she only hoped that when tomorrow arrived... roman would still look at her the way he used to. nikki stepped into the café, the warmth of the room immediately surrounding her as the door closed softly behind her. for a moment, she stayed near the entrance, letting herself adjust to the noise — the quiet conversations, the clatter of cups against saucers, the low hum of music playing somewhere in the background. she had kept her appearance simple, almost intentionally so. she wore a soft cream knit sweater that hugged her figure without feeling too polished, the sleeves slightly pushed up past her wrists in a way that felt natural. her dark jeans fit comfortably, paired with ankle boots that gave her a little confidence without making her feel like she was trying too hard. her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, styled but still soft, and her makeup was subtle — a little mascara, a touch of warmth in her cheeks, nothing that hid the exhaustion around her eyes. nikki hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until she finally let it out, slow and shaky. seeing him in front of her felt different than all the nights she'd imagined this moment. there was no screen to hide behind, no distance to soften the weight of everything they had left unsaid. just him. her roman. the man she'd spent years convincing herself she needed to let go of, and somehow the same man who still felt like home. she lowered her gaze to her hands, twisting her fingers together as she fought the instinct to retreat. ❝ i almost didn't come, ❞ she admitted quietly. ❝ not because i didn't want to see you… i did. i do. i just didn't know if i had the right to. ❞ her eyes lifted back to his. ❝ i've thought about what you said, about how you were hurt that i didn't come to you. and you were right. i should have. ❞ she swallowed, her voice softening. ❝ i spent so much time convincing myself you were going to leave that i never stopped to ask if you actually would. i made that decision for both of us, and i hurt you because i was afraid of being hurt first. ❞ a small, sad smile crossed her face. ❝ i don't expect you to just forget that. i don't expect everything to magically be okay. i just… i need you to know that it was never because i stopped loving you. ❞
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