Page 122 of At First Spark
“It should’ve,” I admit.
That’s the part that wedges.
“That version of me…” I shake my head slightly. “I let things slide if it meant avoiding a bigger problem.”
“And then?”
“There was a night,” I say.
The words come slower now. Measured.
“Small thing. Should’ve stayed that way. I didn’t answer a call. She showed up. Turned it into something bigger than it needed to be.”
The truck feels smaller suddenly. Like the past has followed me into it.
“She wasn’t yelling,” I continue. “That would’ve been easier. She just… wouldn’t stop.”
Lark frowns slightly. “Stop what?”
“Pushing,” I say. “Questioning. Twisting everything into something it wasn’t.”
I glance at her briefly.
“That’s when I realized it wasn’t attention anymore.”
“What was it?”
I hold her gaze for a second.
“Possession.”
The word lands heavier than I expect.
“She didn’t want me,” I say quietly. “She wanted control over something she thought was hers.”
The rain softens slightly. Not gone, just quieter.
“I ended it that night,” I finish.
Lark doesn’t respond right away. And for a second, I think that’s it, that the explanation is enough. But then she asks, “Did she take it well?”
I huff out something that isn’t quite a laugh.
“No. But then she left a few months later. I thought she’d moved on.”
A beat.
“She doesn’t seem like the type to let things go.”
Unlike you.
The thought comes fast and quiet. Because Lark doesn’t cling. She chooses. And somehow that makes her harder to walk away from.
“She’s not.”
Silence settles again. Lark looks out the window for a second before turning back.
“Then why does this feel like more than just… history?”
