I wasn't sleeping much anymore. My apartment was too quiet. My mind, too loud. Every night, I went to bed with a glass of something stronger than I should've had. Most nights, I didn't even make it to the bed. Just the couch. Or the floor. Or wherever I dropped after drifting through the day like a ghost.
I was a machine—eat, work, stare, repeat. But it wasn't living. It wasn't even surviving. It was penance. A slow unspooling of everything I used to be.
For weeks, I told myself she needed space. That I needed time to process. But the truth was uglier than that. I was afraid. Afraid that time would only confirm the worst thing I'd ever done: that I'd lost the one person who made me feel like I had a future.
So I went to therapy. Twice a week.
Not because I wanted to. Because my mother sat across from me and said, her voice edged in iron, "If you want even a ghost of a chance with her, you need to understand why you hurt her. Not justify it. Understand it."
Dr. Elara Vance was a sharply observant woman with a voice like velvet layered over steel. She had that unnerving ability to wait in silence just long enough that your soul started confessing without prompting.
"I don't even know why I did it," I muttered, looking at the floor. "Selene was just... familiar. Easy. A shortcut. A version of who I used to be. I felt like I was losing parts of myself and she reminded me of them."
Dr. Vance tilted her head. "You're describing what's clinically referred to as emotional regression. In psychological terms, it's a defense mechanism. When an individual faces emotional stress, especially related to vulnerability and intimacy, they may regress to earlier behaviors or attachments that feel more 'controlled' or less demanding. You didn't choose Selene. You chose familiarity. You chose the path of least resistance."
"Selene wasn't safer," I said, almost defensively.
"No," she agreed calmly. "But she waspredictable. She represented a previous version of you, and so re-engaging with her created the illusion of control. You weren't choosingher—you were choosing the comfort of whoyouwere when you were with her."
I stared down at my hands. "That sounds pathetic."
"It sounds human," she said simply. "But it's destructive when we confuse nostalgia with emotional safety. You weren't chasing Selene. You were chasing unresolved self-concepts. That's why most people who emotionally retreat to an ex aren't really betraying their partner forthe ex. They're betraying them for thefantasy of themselvesthey associate with the ex."
I looked up. "So it wasn't really about Selene."
"Correct. It was aboutself-soothing through re-idealization. Your brain constructed a narrative that she was an escape route. A safe haven. It's calledretrospective idealization, and it often kicks in when someone is overwhelmed by the emotional intensity of real intimacy."
Dr. Vance leaned forward. "Many people who pursue an ex aren't chasing the person. They're chasing the emotionalera. The illusion of control. And it's a fallacy. Because you aren't that person anymore. You just don't know who you are now, and it scares you."
Silence fell like snow between us.
I frowned. "But June wasn't unsafe. She never made me feel trapped."
"No," Dr. Vance agreed. "But she wasreal. Real love requires vulnerability, accountability, discomfort. The kind of intimacy that demands presence, not performance. That kind of connection often triggers a flight response in people who haven'tfully processed unresolved trauma or emotional development gaps."
I shifted in my seat. "So I ran?"
"You regressed. You defaulted to a past version of yourself where love was easy, performative, without the stakes of depth. You didn't want Selene. You wanted to feel like the man you were when life was simpler."
My mouth went dry. "I didn't want to hurt June."
"But you did. Because in choosing regression, you abandoned her emotionally. You compartmentalized her—boxed her into a fixed role in your life labeled 'safe,' 'permanent,' 'unshakable.' That's a type of objectification. A psychological distancing. It turns a person into a symbol rather than someone you have toshow up fordaily."
I winced. "How do I fix that?"
"You can't 'fix' people," she said gently. "You rebuild trust, if it's still possible. And if she never lets you back in, you still keep doing the work. Because understandingwhyyou ran means taking apart the internal system that told you safety is boring and nostalgia is worth more than stability."
I told her about the texts. That June knew Selene had reached out and told me to reply.
"She said she trusted me."
"And what did you do?"
I swallowed. "I replied. Thought... it is closure. just harmless, but I have sabotaged my own relationship."
"You didn't betray June because you stopped loving her," she said after a moment. "You betrayed her because you didn't believe you were enough for the life she was helping you build. So you blew it up. Subconsciously. Self-sabotage is one of the most devastating defense mechanisms. Because itfeelslike agency when it's actually fear."
Tears burned behind my eyes.
