Shit.
I shoot up, tripping over my own feet when I see I’m still fucking naked from the waist down.
God!She saw me like this. In pursuit of her unjustified humiliation, I humiliatedmyself.
I blink rapidly as I scramble for jeans, socks, anything. My hands are shaking too hard to tie my laces. My chest tightens when I seeherpair of keys.
She doesn’t intend on coming back.
Why would she?
My keys fall twice before I get a grip. I leave the car keys behind because driving is out of the question.
She shouldn’t be far. Maybe she’s still waiting for a streetcar.
I bolt out of the apartment building, the cold night slamming into me. I run.
The streetcar station’s five minutes away. If I’m lucky, she hasn’t left yet.
I round the corner and—stop cold.
She’s there.
Standing at the crosswalk, motionless. Her arms wrapped around herself. A single curl of hair slipping from her bun. Shoulders tight.
She walks straight at the next crosswalk instead of turning left toward the streetcar line.
And that’s when it hits me.
She’s going towalk.
All four fucking kilometers.
Jesus Christ.
I slow down instinctively, keeping my distance, my legs suddenly heavier than they should be. Her pace isn’t fast, but it’s determined—like sheneedsthe punishment. Like this is the only way to outrun what just happened.
My breath catches when she suddenly stops in the middle of the sidewalk. Her tote bag slides off her shoulder, hanging limp in her hands. Her head bows forward, and I see her shoulders tremble.
No.
No—fuck.Please, no.
She’scrying.
God. She’s crying.
The kind of crying you do when you think no one’s watching. The kind you save for the night.
Please tell me I haven’t broken her in ways that she’s now a lone woman, sobbing on empty streets in the middle of the night.Please, no.
I take a step forward without thinking. And then another.
I can’t let her do this. Not like this. Not because ofme. I didn’t just break us—I brokeher. I didn’t shatter something beautiful. I shatteredher.
She starts walking again before I can get closer. And I freeze, falling back into step almost twenty feet behind her. Like some fucking ghost who used to matter.
I pray she doesn’t turn around. If she sees me—if shelooksat me—I don’t know what I’ll do. Probably something reckless. Somethingselfish. Like hold her even though I’m the reason she’s out here alone.
