Page 22 of The Breaking Point

His voice is soft. Cautious. I don’t speak right away. Letting the silence stretch, I can hear him breathing on the other end, waiting for me to break it.

Finally, I say, “I went to therapy.”

A pause, then a little exhale. “Wow. That’s... that’s great. Really. I’ve been telling you to go for years.”

I don’t bother responding to that part. I let it hang between us, that old argument no longer worth arguing over.

“How was it?” he asks.

“Enlightening.” It’s the only word I can say. Anything more and I’ll break open. And I can’t break, not here, not with him on the other end of the line, not after everything.

There’s a pause. Just his breath in the quiet.

Then he says, gently, “I’m proud of you.”

My throat tightens. I look out at the windshield, at nothing, really. Just the way the sky hangs low tonight, how the world keeps moving even when everything in me feels still.

“Why’d you ask me out?” I ask out of the blue. Its not the first time the question has popped into my head, but it’s the first time I'm willing to hear the answer.

He doesn’t speak right away.

So I add, “Back in high school?”

He laughs a little under his breath. “Yeah, I figured that’s what you meant.”

Another breath. Then he says, “It’s gonna sound stupid.”

“I don’t care.”

He exhales like he’s remembering something so far back it lives under layers of dust. “A few days before you joined the school, people started talking. Someone saw you when you came in for admissions, and the rumours just… took off. No one had even met you, and already there were stories. Someone said you were a model who needed a high school diploma. Someone else swore you were some kind of undercover cop trying to infiltrate a drug ring.”

Despite myself, I smile. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious. It was ridiculous. I didn’t get the hype. Thought, how pretty could this girl really be?”

He pauses.

“And then I saw you. You walked into the hallway like you didn’t owe anyone anything. You weren’t trying to impress anyone. Just… existing. And I thought, okay. That’s different. You didn’t talk much. Just kept your head down. And somehow that made everyone look even harder.”

I picture it. My old sneakers. My backpack hanging by one fraying strap. My quiet.

“I watched the girls side-eye you, and I watched every guy in that hallway try to figure you out. You didn’t even blink at them. And one day, in bio, the seat next to you opened up and I took it. I didn’t plan it. I just saw a chance and went for it.”

He lets out a laugh. It’s soft, but it carries something honest.

“I didn’t think you’d even notice me. But you did. You talked to me. You smiled. And in that moment, I swear I knew. You weren’t just beautiful. You were... real. Kind. Smart in this way that made me nervous. I walked out of class that day knowing I was going to ask you out. And when you said yes, I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.”

I close my eyes. The words settle deep.

“I still do,” he adds.

I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. I just let it press against the ache in my chest.

Then he says, “How come you never asked before?”

I keep my eyes closed for a beat longer, let the moment pass through me.

Instead of answering, I breathe out slowly and say, “I want to try couples counselling.”

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