Page 79 of The Ache That Stayed

“Can’t I meet you as a friend?” I asked.

“Not when you’ve been dodging me like clockwork.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, my fingers found the ring—the one given by Marcello. It had never been called an engagement ring. There had been no grand proposal, no expectation, no demand. Just a promise.

I turned it slowly, once, then again, until the edge pressed into my skin. A quiet reminder. A physical anchor. Proof of safety.

“You always do that.”

I stilled. “Do what?”

“Reach for something when you’re evading an answer.”

It was more of a statement than a question.

My hand dropped from the ring too quickly to pretend it hadn’t mattered.

“I’m not avoiding anything.”

I flinched slightly, but the word stayed.

Avoiding.

It settled somewhere deeper inside me than it should have.

Avoiding—it was what I’d always done. And I was doing it again. My gaze dropped to my hands, to the faint mark the ring had left behind.

Avoiding conversations that didn’t have clean endings. Ones that forced me to sit with uglier parts of myself. Anything that threatened to shift the ground beneath me.

Anything that might crack the version of myself I’d learned to hold together.

Maybe that’s why I avoided marrying Marcello too.

The thought barged in uninvited, not as a question, but recognition.

I loved him. That had never been the problem.

Maybe that was what made this feel worse. I loved the way he said my name like it mattered. The way his presence steadied me. The way he never asked for more than I could give—and somehow gave me more than I knew how to hold.

But certainty never lasted long with me. And the shadows in my mind didn’t care. They whispered anyway.

What if? What if? What if?

A silent shiver ran down my spine.

My scars resisted permanence. As if I might lose myself all over again. And needing him might become a habit I couldn’t undo.

Why did love feel safe…

…but permanence felt dangerous?

I was certain Marcello wouldn’t walk away again, but some part of me, the part of me always bracing for impact, wouldn’t let me believe that. And if he did, I knew this time around, I wouldn’t survive it.

“Roxanne.”

Julian’s voice pulled me back. I blinked once, realising I had gone quiet longer than I meant to.

“I’m right here,” I said.