Page 31 of Lovesick

But a small part of me was still listening.

And I hated that it was.

And then, finally, I said…

Option 1:

“No, I don’t want to get dinner with you.”

(go to chapter 13)

Option 2:

“Okay. One dinner.”

(go to chapter 14)

13

EMILIA

And then, finally, I said, “No, I don’t want to get dinner with you.”

He blinked once. No outburst. No resistance. Just a subtle shift in his face like he’d been expecting it, and maybe even knew he deserved it.

I stood before he could say anything else.

“I needed to say everything I said,” I added. “And I meant it.”

He nodded, just once, then I got up and I walked to the door.

I left.

Not with anger, and not with regret. Just…clarity.

That was the last honest conversation we had.

For the next month, I kept everything strictly professional. Mechanical, even. I arrived at the office early, headphones in before anyone had a chance to ask me how I was doing or what I thought about anything beyond the task at hand. I answered emails. Sat through meetings. Delivered on deadlines. I did everything I was supposed to—efficient, composed, unreadable.

Dean and I shared space again. That was unavoidable. But I kept it clean. Cordial. Distant. I didn’t flinch when I saw him. I didn’t falter when we crossed paths or got stuck next to each other in meetings. I didn’t shrink under his gaze.

He didn’t say much. I think he understood the rules I’d drawn. Or maybe he just didn’t have anything left to say.

He stopped trying.

Stopped pausing too long when we passed in the hallway.

Stopped finding excuses to be near my office.

And slowly, I let myself breathe.

It wasn’t easy, though. People around the office started to whisper when they thought I wasn’t listening. Not cruel gossip, just the quiet curiosity of people who sensed something had happened but couldn’t piece it together. I ignored it. I didn’t owe anyone a narrative.

There were days it still hurt. Like when I stayed late finishing something and saw the light still on in his office across the floor. Or when I caught the faintest note of his cologne in the elevator. There were moments where I missed him, even if he never treated me the way I deserved. The way I used to feel seen by him, even when it had all been a lie.

But I held it together and didn’t break.

I remembered what it had cost me to get back to myself.

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