The silence in Tristan's apartment after I asked him that question—Figure out what?! What do you need to figure out?—was suffocating. His eyes flashed with something that almost looked like panic before his expression hardened. I saw him struggle to find the right words, but whatever he was trying to say, it felt wrong. Nothing was coming out the way it should.
"You don’t get it, Mia," he finally said, his voice low and controlled. "I can’t just... explain it like that. I can’t…" He stopped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just need time, okay? I need space to figure things out."
Time and space. Those words seemed like an easy escape for him. They were words he used to distance himself, to keep me at arm’s length. They didn’t make sense to me anymore, not after everything that had happened, not after the way I had let myself feel so vulnerable with him.
"You want me to just sit here, wait for you to 'figure it out'?" I asked, the hurt creeping into my voice. "I’m not going to sit around, Tristan. I can’t."
His gaze softened for a fraction of a second, but the coldness quickly returned, his walls as impenetrable as ever. He stepped closer, reaching out like he wanted to touch me, to stop me from walking away. But I couldn’t let him do that.
"I need you to stay, Mia. Please." His voice dropped, barely a whisper. "Give me time. I don’t know what this is, but I can’t lose you. Not like this."
The words "I can’t lose you" echoed in my mind, but they didn’t make me feel comforted. They made me feel like a pawn in a game I hadn’t agreed to play. His need for time, for space, felt like an excuse, like he wasn’t ready to confront whatever was happening between us. And I wasn’t going to wait around, not anymore.
I shook my head, turning away from him. "I can’t stay. Not like this." I could barely finish the sentence, my voice thick with emotion, but I couldn’t stop. I walked out of his apartment, not looking back.
***
The next day at work, Tristan turned into a ghost. It was like the man I’d spent days—weeks—feeling something for had disappeared completely. He barely looked at me when I passed him in the hall. His eyes were flat, devoid of the color they used to have when they were filled with that intensity I couldn’t quite resist. He was completely distant, as if I didn’t exist.
At first, I thought it was a temporary thing. He was angry. He was confused. But as the hours dragged on, I realized he had shut down completely. His coldness was like a barrier, impenetrable and unforgiving. I tried to talk to him, tried to approach him like we used to, but he turned away every time. His responses were clipped, his gaze unbothered.
It wasn’t just me. I saw his interaction with everyone around him. Colleagues tried to approach him, tried to engage him, but he shut them down just like he shut me down. Even the people who had been closest to him, those who could usually read him, were left standing there with no response. His walls were up, and nobody could break through. It wasn’t just ignoring me anymore, it was like he was avoiding everyone.
At first, I couldn’t understand why it felt like everything had shifted overnight. What happened to the man who was willing to drag me to the Ferris wheel, to kiss me like he was starving for it? What happened to the Tristan who, despite everything, had made me feel seen in a way that nobody else could?
I felt a deep sense of confusion and loss, as if he had erased everything between us with one swift movement. Was it really just about time for him? Or was I just a convenience to him, someone who he could keep at arm’s length whenever he wanted?
It hurt more than I expected. But more than that, it left me feeling empty, like I was chasing after something that was never going to be real.
I tried to focus on my work, but everything felt so insignificant now. The room seemed to close in on me with the heavy weight of unanswered questions. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, but I knew I couldn’t keep torturing myself over something that Tristan clearly wasn’t ready for. The silence between us was deafening, and it made me feel like I was losing myself.
Lucas was there, of course. He was always there when I needed someone to talk to. He was easy to talk to, steady, reliable. He listened to me without judgment, without making me feel like I was crazy. There was something comforting about him that made everything feel more manageable. We’d talk about work, about our hobbies, about random things that made me laugh. It felt good to be around someone who didn’t stir up a whirlwind of confusion.
But as the days passed, something began to shift in me. Lucas, with his gentle nature and calm demeanor, started to feel... comfortable. Maybe too comfortable. It was easy to be around him, but something was missing. The thrill. The spark. The intensity that Tristan somehow brought out in me. With Lucas, I didn’t feel the same rush. It was steady, but it didn’t excite me the way I wanted to be excited. It felt safe, but it didn’t make my heart race in that unpredictable way that Tristan did.
So I began to make a decision, at least on the surface. I’d flirt with Lucas. I’d lean into the comfort he offered and let myself feel good for a change. I started hanging out with him outside of work, sitting closer to him in meetings, laughing a little too loud at his jokes, letting myself bask in the warmth of his attention.
I didn’t want to think about Tristan. I didn’t want to need the chaos he created. So I started changing. I bought a few new outfits, something more casual, more feminine. I began to speak more softly when I was around Lucas, adjusting my posture to match the energy he gave off. It was a distraction, a way to fill the void that Tristan’s absence had created.
But deep down, I was still questioning everything. Did I want comfort, or did I want the thrill? Did I really want to be with someone like Lucas who is kind, predictable, reliable? Or did I crave the wild, intense emotions that Tristan stirred in me, even if it left me feeling confused and unsettled?
I found myself looking at Lucas in a way I hadn’t before. His smile, his easy charm—it was appealing, but it wasn’t the kind of appeal that made my stomach flip. I wasn’t sure if I could pretend that was enough.
And the worst part? I felt guilty. Guilty for using Lucas as a distraction. Guilty for trying to push Tristan out of my mind when I knew that, deep down, I still wanted him. I still wanted the rush that only he could give me, the unpredictable, dangerous energy that I couldn’t resist, no matter how hard I tried.
But I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep pretending. How much longer I could pretend that I was okay with being just comfortable with Lucas, when all I wanted was something more.