Page 96 of Between Here and There

I planned to end all this before I left. I planned to just tell that lie and move on. I planned to walk out of this apartment without the weight of him on my shoulders. But as I look at him now, standing there with that vulnerable, almost pleading look in his eyes, my heart softens. My defenses crumble.

I know what I feel about him, and maybe he feels the same. But I need time to think. To be alone with my thoughts and not see him every second. To know, for sure, that this is what I want.

I sigh, dropping my gaze for a moment to steady myself. “If I’m being honest, Joshua,” I start, looking back at him. “I need some time. I’m confused. These past weeks with you… they weren’t what I expected. And I don’t know if I’m ready to let you in completely. And I’m sure you’re not ready to do the same for me. So maybe, maybe we can just… take a moment?”

Joshua steps closer, closing the space between us. His hands twitch at his sides like he’s debating whether to reach for me. “Alright,” he says. “Take all the time you need, Emily. Maybe wedoneed time to be away from each other to know if we really feel the way we do.” He battles with himself a little more, but he holds my face in his hand when he continues. “But this is not goodbye, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper.

He plants a soft kiss on my forehead, and pulls away to look me in the eye. “I’m gonna miss you, though.”

I look at him, his face getting clouded by the tears pooling in my eyes.

“I’m gonna miss you too.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Joshua

It’s been a week since Emily moved out. A week since I realized I love her. A week since that tearful goodbye. And a week since I felt her slipping away from me, her replies to my texts becoming fewer, her warmth fading into an unsettling distance.

I stare at the wall of my empty apartment, the silence pressing down on me like a weight. My eyes dart to the small plant by the window and the throw pillows she picked out, their soft colors a contrast to the starkness of the room. Emily’s presence lingers, even though she’s gone. These small, simple things are the only signs of life in here now, and they feel more like ghosts than comforts.

Every time I catch a glimpse of those throw pillows, I think about how she used to curl up on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her, completely absorbed in whatever book or show she had that day. The plant? She named it Basil. She insisted every home needed some greenery, even if it was just one plant. I didn’t even want it at first, but now I water it religiously.

It’s like she’s still here. But she isn’t.

I thought I needed a moment. But every moment away from her is excruciatingly slow. All I want is to have her back here with me.

I’m so out of it. I don’t know how to be in a relationship, if this even is one. How soon can I call her? How soon can I admit that I love her? What’s a reasonable way to have her in my life again?

I’m scared to even imagine that Emily will never be with me. That all she’ll ever be is my sister’s best friend.Someone I once shared a beautiful, fleeting moment with. It’s not like I’m a stranger to things ending. Life has always taught me that nothing lasts. Honestly, I should know better than to believe otherwise. I should probably consider moving on…

Except that thought makes my stomach twist. Because if I move on, that means Emily will, too. And that image is unbearable.

She’s going to meet someone new. Someone who will spend every night with her. Someone who’ll see the way her nose scrunches when she’s focused, or listen to her overthinking spirals, all while holding her close. Someone who’ll love her without hesitation, without fear.

And then, years from now, when I go back home to Magnolia Heights, I’m gonna see her with her husband, and their future kids. And I’m going to beUncle Josh,the one who’s still single because I never really got over her.

And that will happen all because I didn’t have the guts to do things right today.

No. No, this can’t be it. I pull out my phone and dial my sister before I can overthink it.

“What’s up?” she says.

“I’m in love with Emily,” I say in a rush.

“Okay, that’s an intense truth bomb,” she says, but then she laughs. “Kidding, it’s not. It’s so obvious. But why did you call me?”

“Because I haven’t told her yet.”

“And that’s because…?”

“Because I don’t know if I can love her without hurting her,” I say quietly, the weight of the confession settling in the air between us. “You know what it was like growing up with Mom and Dad. Love for them was all shouting and leaving and pretending nothing ever happened. I don’t even know what love looks like without the mess. Without the hurt. And honestly? I don’t know if I can do it any differently.” I pause, feeling a lump form in my throat. “So maybe that’s why I’m calling. To ask you how you’ve managed to love someone when we’ve never really experienced it ourselves.”

For a moment, the line is quiet. Then her voice comes through, softer this time. “Kuya, no one walks away from that kind of childhood without scars. Trust me, I’ve had my moments, and you saw them all. But… I guess it was easier for me to love because I didn’t grow up exactly the way you did.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, frowning.

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