A week passed. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

  Christopher stared at his phone every morning like it owed him an apology. Her silence was louder than anything she could’ve said.

  Finally, he snapped.

  He showed up at her place. Jewel opened the door wearing a robe and a startled expression — like she never expected him to follow through.

  “Chris… what are you doing here?”

  He didn’t smile. Didn’t try to ease in.

  “We need to talk.”

  She stepped aside; arms crossed tightly as he walked in. The air felt cold — like something sacred had died in that space.

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  “I’ve been going back and forth in my head,” he started. “Trying to convince myself

  I made up that moment between us. That maybe I kissed you and it was all in my head.”

  She looked away.

  “But I didn’t imagine it. You kissed me back, Jewel. And I need to know what that meant to you. I deserve that.”

  She sighed. It wasn’t frustrated, just heavy. “Chris… you’re one of the most important people in my life. I love you, but not like that.”

  He blinked, once, slowly. Like her words had slapped him.

  “Then why do we do all this?” he said, voice rising. “The late nights, the family dinners, the inside jokes, the handholding when we’re drunk—why do we act like we’re in a relationship if you don’t feel the same?”

  “Because it’s comfortable,” she said quietly. “Because you make me feel safe.”

  Christopher’s jaw clenched. “You feel safe. And I feel like I’m drowning.”

  Silence.

  “I can’t keep doing this,” he said. “I can’t keep showing up for someone who only sees me as convenient.”

  He walked toward the door, then paused.

  “When you figure out what you want… don’t call me if it’s not me.”

  The door shut behind him — and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t look back.