Page 27 of Ready or Not
Still, the what-ifs clawed at me.
I glanced toward the window. The sunlight hadn’t shifted much, but it suddenly felt too bright, too sharp.
Was it too much to hope he’d left a small gesture, a message of reassurance?
Maybe I should call Naomi and ask her about this.
Reaching for my phone, I unlocked the screen and searched for my best friend’s name, but my thumb hesitated above the call button.
What was I even going to say? That I’d had a perfect night, woke up feeling ecstatic, and then immediately spiraled into doubt because of a neatly folded pile of clothes? Naomi would laugh, then lecture me about overthinking. She wouldn’t mean it unkindly, but still—it wasn’t what I needed right now.
I set the phone down on the edge of the chair and exhaled slowly.
Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe Desi was just… considerate.
Folding my clothes didn’t automatically mean he was trying to put distance between us, right? It could just as easily be him being thoughtful, making sure I didn’t wake up to a mess.
That sounded like something he’d do.
Remaking myself comfortable on the bed, I stared at the ceiling for what felt like forever, my mind twisting in circles as I tried to make sense of the quiet. The logical part of me wanted to trust his intentions, to chalk this up to a simple morning errand or a caring gesture. But the softer, more vulnerable side of me—the one that had experienced too many disappointments before—nudged at the unease still lingering in my chest.
Unable to stay still, I got up again, wrapping his bedsheets around me before padding out into the hallway. The apartment was bathed in that soft morning light, every detail illuminated—his bookshelves, the art on the walls, two mismatched mugs stacked neatly by the sink. I moved toward the kitchen, my bare feet making almost inaudible sounds against the hardwood. My focus darted to the counter, searching for a note, a scribble—anything that might say more than this silence offered.
But there was nothing.
Just the stillness.
I chewed on my bottom lip, the consumption of uncertainty now dampening the high I woke up with.
Was I not worthy of a simple explanation? A word or two on a piece of paper?
Had I misread everything?
Was last night just that—a fleeting moment he wanted to wrap up neatly and put away?
That wasn’t Desi—not from what I knew of him so far. He had been nothing but kind, attentive even, and our connection last night wasn’t the kind you just tucked away and forgot… Was I wrong to think it meant more?
Then again... maybe I was wrong about a lot of things.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Back inside the room again, I stared at the neatly folded pile, my fingers brushing over the fabric absentmindedly.
He folded my clothes.
The realization hit me like a drop of cold water sliding down my spine.
Desiderio folded my clothes.
That already told me more than any words could have, and I needed to accept what it meant.
It wasn’t a careless toss, an afterthought, or a rushed gesture. It was deliberate. Thoughtful, even. But thoughtful in a way that suddenly felt distant, measured, and maybe even too polite. It made me understand that he didn’t see me the way I had started to see him. Last night for him was a neatly packaged and compartmentalized fleeting moment, like the clothes on his chair.
And that was okay for me. Thathadto be okay for me.
Despite the smile I had worn since waking up fading, despite my chest feeling tight in a way I couldn’t name, I was going to be alright because I didn’t regret a second of it. Last night was exactly what I needed to remind me of who I was, of what Ideserved. It didn't matter if Desi didn't see things the same way. For once, I wasn't living my life based on someone's validation.
I had already found something I didn’t realize I’d been searching for: clarity.
