I closed the door after Jason entered my house.
The sound of it settling into its frame felt final in a way I was not prepared for. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a soft click that echoed through the apartment and stayed there. I stood with my hand still on the knob for a few seconds, my fingers resting where his had been moments earlier. I was aware of my breathing, shallow and uneven, like my body had forgotten how to regulate itself now that he was gone.
Jason did not look back when he left. That was probably intentional. He had said he would give me space. He had said I should think. He had said I could call him when I had an answer.
An answer.
I let my forehead rest against the door and closed my eyes. My thoughts felt scattered, overlapping each other without any real structure. Nothing lined up the way it was supposed to. I had expected to feel relief once he left. Instead, what settled in my chest was heavier. Quieter. Harder to ignore.
