Page 92 of When We Are Falling

He shakes his head. “No… No. What do you mean? Is this about lunch? I know it didn’t go the way I planned, but—”

“No, Ethan, it’s not just about today,” I cut him off, my voice wavering slightly. “It’s about everything. I’m the kind of person who needs to stand on my own two feet and I never hid that from you. I’ve been like that my whole life, and I can’t change that for anyone, not even you.”

His eyes widen, and I can see the pain in them, the way my words are cutting so deep. “Please, you don’t have to do this. We can start over. That’s what being in a relationship is about—being there for each other, growing and doing better. I can do better.”

“That’s the problem, Ethan,” I say, my walls getting stronger, my voice growing firmer as I push past the pain lancing through my heart. “You want to be there for me, to control everything and keep me safe from the world, but I don’t need that. I can’t be with someone who thinks I’m fragile or needs protecting.”

He looks stunned. “Please, Blake. I just want you to let me in”

“You’re deluding yourself. You have to let go of this intense need to be in control, or you’ll never find happiness. Not with me, not with anyone. Life doesn’t work like that.”

For a moment, I see the boyish insecurity beneath the strong exterior. “Please don’t do this. We can work through this. I’ll change, I’ll try harder. Just… don’t walk away. What we have is something special, it’s not something you just walk away from. I love you. I love you so damn much.”

Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to let them fall. I’m hurting so bad, but the fear is even stronger.

“I love you. Please, let’s give this another shot.” His voice is raw, desperate. His eyes, those steel-gray eyes that have always been so steady, now look like they’re on the verge of shattering, filled with a vulnerability I’ve never seen before. His words hang in the air between us, a plea wrapped in hope.

But it’s too late. I have to do this.

I think back to Danny, to the way I let myself be vulnerable with him, how I trusted him with every piece of my heart, only to have it shattered when he died. The grief was unbearable, like a part of me had been ripped away. And I’ve always wished I kept more of myself locked away, not letting him get so close. The thought of going through that kind of pain ever again terrifies me. It’s safer to keep my distance, to protect what’s left of my heart, even if it means walking away now.

“I’m sorry.” My voice breaks, the sound barely more than a whisper, even though it feels like a scream inside my chest. “I can’t do this. We can’t be together. It’s over.”

The finality of my words crash over us, but there’s no other way. I can’t be with someone who tries to break down my walls, who wants to be let in, even if I love him.Especiallybecause I love him.

Ethan looks like he’s been punched, his broad shoulders slumping as the air leaves his lungs in a ragged, uneven breath.His hand hovers in the space between us, uncertain, as if he’s reaching for something that’s no longer there.

“Blake, please…”

The pain in his eyes is unbearable, but I force myself to stand up. The chair scrapes against the floor.

Each step feels like tearing my heart out, but I start walking, knowing it’s the only way. Pushing open the door and stepping onto the street, I take one shaky breath after another, trying to hold myself together, but I’m fraying at the edges. And still, I don’t look back.

As I walk down the street, cool air hits my face, and for a moment, there’s an urge to turn back, to undo what I just did. But I keep walking.

It hurts—damnit, it hurts—but deep down, I know it’s what I have to do. I can’t rely on anyone but myself, not if I want to survive.

Chapter 43

Ethan

As soon asBlake walks away, the restaurant starts closing in on me. The walls shrink, pressing in from all sides, suffocating. I can still taste her on my lips, the space she just vacated across from me a void, gaping and raw. My mind scrambles to make sense of it, but all I’m left with is pain.

Everything I’ve clung to, all the plans I’ve made, amounted to nothing. I thought I could hold everything together if I kept a tight enough grip, but I was wrong.

A thought gnaws at me: maybe I’m doomed to repeat the same mistakes as my parents, to see everything fall apart no matter how hard I try. They taught me that love ends in failure, in bitter resentment and broken promises, and maybe that’s all there is.

The waiter approaches, carrying three plates, the smell of the dishes hitting me with an almost violent intensity. He sets the food down, the clatter of the ceramic against the table jarring.

What was I thinking? A lunch was never going to fix this.

He looks at me, observant eyes searching my face. “Is everything okay, sir?” His voice is careful, like he’s not sure if he should even be asking.

Staring at the food in front of me, unable to think about eating. I can’t stay here. Can’t sit in this place, pretending like my world didn’t just come crashing down. The sight of the grilled chicken salad Blake ordered, the steaming pasta dishes, friends and acquaintances at the surrounding tables having their lunch, blissfully unaware of my pain, makes me sick to my stomach. I need to get out, breathe, escape this place where everything with Blake unraveled before my eyes.

“Yeah,” I manage to say, my voice hollow, disconnected. “Everything’s fine.”

But nothing is fine. Not even close. I reach into my pocket, pulling out enough money for the meals, drinks, and a generous tip. I fumble with the notes, scattering them, and take a moment to scoop them into a pile in the middle of the table. The waiter is watching with a concerned expression, but I don’t care.

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