I avoided him.
Not dramatically. Not in a way that anyone else would notice.
Just enough.
Enough to protect myself.
The next day at work, I came in earlier than usual.
Earlier than him.
I sat at my desk, pretending to be busy, even though my mind kept replaying everything from the day before.
Your girlfriend is here.
The words wouldn't leave me alone.
When he finally walked in, I felt it before I saw him.
That familiar awareness.
But this time, I didn't look up.
"Valerine…"
His voice was careful. Soft.
Like he wasn't sure he was allowed to say my name anymore.
I kept my eyes on my screen.
"I'm working," I said simply.
It wasn't rude.
It wasn't emotional.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Lunch felt different.
No—empty.
I didn't go looking for him. I didn't wait. I didn't save a seat.
I sat with other colleagues, forcing small conversations, nodding at things I wasn't really hearing.
But I could feel his eyes on me.
Every now and then.
And I refused to look back.
That evening, I packed my things quickly.
No waiting. No lingering.
I was almost at the door when I heard footsteps behind me.
"Valerine, wait."
I stopped.
Just for a second.
Then I kept walking.
He caught up to me outside.
"Please, just listen—"
"I don't want to," I said, finally turning to face him.
My voice wasn't loud. It didn't shake.
But my eyes…
They said everything I was holding back.
"It's not what you think," he said quickly.
I let out a small, tired laugh.
"Then what is it, Percy?"
He hesitated.
That hesitation again.
The same one from yesterday.
The same one that told me the truth before he even spoke.
"I was going to tell you," he said.
"When?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
I nodded slowly.
"Exactly."
The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable.
This wasn't the same silence we used to share on our walks home.
This one hurt.
"I didn't mean for this to happen," he said quietly.
And for a moment, I believed him.
But that didn't change anything.
"I need space," I said.
Not angrily.
Not dramatically.
Just honestly.
He looked like he wanted to say more.
But this time… he didn't.
I walked home alone that day.
No music.
No shared AirPods.
No bodyguard jokes.
Just me.
And the sound of my own footsteps.
And that's when it really hit me.
Not at work.
Not when I saw her.
But in that quiet walk home…
That everything we had—
Was never mine the way I thought it was.