Ryan was leaving.
The thought hit her like a punch to the chest, and she felt her breath catch as she stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. Last night had been perfect—soft whispers, lingering touches, a connection that felt deeper than anything they had shared before. But now, in the harsh light of morning, Emily couldn't shake the fear that this was just one last perfect night before things fell apart again.
She turned to face him, her movements careful so as not to wake him, but as if sensing her unease, Ryan's eyes slowly opened. He studied her for a moment, his gaze soft but searching, before he murmured, "Don't overthink it."
Emily exhaled, her lips curving into a small, reluctant smile. "I'm not," she said, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them.
Ryan smirked, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Liar," he said, his voice low and teasing, but there was a warmth in his eyes that made her chest tighten.
She rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, he pulled her onto his chest, wrapping his arms around her in a way that felt both protective and possessive. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, a comforting rhythm that made her want to stay like this forever.
His voice was quieter when he spoke again, the teasing tone replaced by something more serious. "I meant what I said, Emily."
Emily's heart pounded, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest as she tried to steady her breathing. "Which part?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ryan looked at her, his expression serious, his eyes filled with a quiet determination that made her breath catch. "That this time, I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice firm but gentle, the words carrying a weight that made her chest ache.
That evening, Ryan left for New York. Emily stood at the airport, watching as he disappeared through the security gates with his suitcase behind him. Just before he was out of sight, he turned and gave her a small smile. Their eyes met for a brief, heart-stopping moment, but the look did little to ease the unease in her chest.
She couldn't stop thinking about the image of him walking away, growing smaller until he was gone. It stayed with her as she headed back to the car. Watching his plane disappear into the sky, the distant city lights blinking below, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change. She just didn't know if it would be for the better or worse.
The first few days after Ryan left for New York, things were fine.
mily kept telling herself she could handle it. She stayed busy with work, diving into her projects and taking on extra tasks to keep her mind off the distance. She met deadlines, came up with new ideas, and filled her days with anything that would keep her distracted.
Ryan called every night, even if only for a few minutes. Just hearing his voice made the distance feel a little easier. Those calls became her anchor, the one thing she looked forward to each day. He would tell her about his meetings, the busy city, or little things he noticed—like sunlight on the buildings or a street performer on his way to work. Emily shared her day too, from the projects she was working on to small, everyday moments that somehow felt special when she told him.
For the first time in a while, Emily felt like things were going right. There was no pressure, no big promises—just a quiet, steady connection that felt both fresh and familiar. But as the days went on, that easy rhythm started to shift. The calls grew shorter, the gaps between them longer, and a sense of doubt began to creep in. She told herself not to worry, that she was just overthinking, but the feeling stayed with her.
Soon, the long, easy conversations full of laughter and shared moments turned into quick check-ins. The playful texts faded, replaced by short messages that felt more like routine updates than real talks. Ryan's schedule got busier—meetings, events, late dinners—and Emily tried to understand. She told herself he wasn't ignoring her, that he was just caught up with work. But deep down, it was getting harder to ignore the growing distance.
But knowing it and feeling it were two different things.
The distance between them, both physical and emotional, began to weigh on her. She told herself it was just a phase, that things would go back to normal once he returned, but the doubt lingered, a quiet whisper in the back of her mind that grew louder with each passing day.
And then, one evening, Ryan didn't call.
Emily stared at her phone, the screen dark and silent, as the hours ticked by. She told herself he was busy, that he had meetings or dinners or any number of reasons why he might not have had the chance to call. But as the night stretched on, the doubts she had been trying to ignore came rushing back with a vengeance.
By the time the sun rose the next morning, Emily's unease had turned into something sharper, something that felt dangerously close to fear. She tried to shake it off, to focus on the work in front of her, but her mind kept drifting back to Ryan, to the way he had looked at her before he left, to the promises he had made.
And then came the picture.
It started with a harmless lunch break at the office. Emily was sitting with her coworkers, picking at her salad and half-listening to the chatter around her, when Lena, a colleague, suddenly turned her phone toward her.
"Hey, isn't this Ryan?" Lena asked, her tone casual but her eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Emily looked at the screen and felt her stomach drop.
It was Ryan. At a high-end gala in New York. Dressed in an expensive, perfectly tailored suit, his tie slightly loosened, standing beside a beautiful woman in a sleek red dress. The woman was smiling up at him, her hand resting lightly on his arm, and Ryan was smiling back, his expression relaxed and familiar. The caption beneath the photo read: "A stunning pair spotted at the annual NY Ad Execs Networking Event! 🔥"
Emily couldn't breathe.
Someone beside her whistled. "Damn. She's gorgeous. Wonder if she's his date?"
Lena nudged Emily playfully. "Hey, you're the expert. Who is she?"
Emily forced a laugh, the sound hollow even to her own ears, but inside, her heart was pounding. Who was that woman? Why was she so close to him? Why hadn't he mentioned anything about this event, about her?
She hated how quickly doubt crept in, how fast her thoughts spiraled. He had promised to put her first, to never make her feel like she didn't matter. But right now, looking at that picture, she felt exactly like she had before—small, invisible, and forgotten.
That night, Ryan called, but she didn't pick up. His ringtone, once a sound that made her smile, now felt heavy in her chest. She stared at the glowing screen in the dark, her mind filled with questions she wasn't ready to face. She didn't know exactly why she let it ring. Maybe she just needed time. Time to sort through the mess of feelings. Maybe she wasn't ready to hear him say, "She's just a colleague," in that calm, distant way he used when avoiding the truth.
Because even if it was innocent, why hadn't he told her? Why did she have to find out from a coworker's phone and a gossipy caption? The image of him at the gala, standing next to the woman in the red dress, kept playing in her mind. The way they smiled at each other, the way her hand rested on his arm—it felt too close, too real to ignore. And the fact that he hadn't said a word about it only made the uneasy feeling in her stomach worse..
A few minutes later, a message popped up.
Ryan: Missed you today. Call me back when you can.
Emily stared at her screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard. She could call him, ask about the picture, the woman, why he hadn't said anything. She could demand answers. But a quiet voice in her head asked, What if you don't want to hear the truth? The thought made her chest tighten. Without thinking, she closed the chat and set her phone aside.
That night, she didn't reply. Instead, she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her mind full of doubts she couldn't silence. She wanted to believe him, to trust that everything was fine—but the image of that woman, the way she had looked at him, wouldn't leave her.
As the hours passed, the silence between them grew heavier, like a wall building between them. For the first time in weeks, the old feeling of loneliness crept back in. She hated how fast it returned. Hated how much Ryan still affected her. And most of all, she hated that she didn't know what to do—whether to ask the hard questions or walk away before she got hurt again.
But for now, all she could do was lie there, staring at her silent phone, and wonder if she had made a mistake in trusting him after all.