Fear.
He wanted saving.
And he wanted me to be the life raft.
I met his eyes and said the truth, sharp and clean:
“No.”
His face drained.
“No?” he repeated, confused by the sound.
“I’m not your escape plan,” I said calmly. “And I won’t let you rewrite history just because the consequences finally caught up to you.”
“Julie…”
“I’m seeing someone,” I said.
The words landed hard.
His mouth opened.
Then closed.
His knees buckled slightly, like his body couldn’t hold the weight.
“You… you are?”
“Yes,” I said. “And even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t take you back.”
His breath stuttered.
Then he dropped to his knees right there on the sidewalk.
A grown man.
Begging.
Publicly.
“Please,” he whispered. “You’re the only one who ever—”
He didn’t finish.
Because I didn’t care.
I didn’t yell.
I didn’t laugh.
I didn’t gloat.
I simply looked down at him and said quietly:
“You made your choice a long time ago, Larry.”
Then I turned.
And I walked away.
Steady.
Unshaken.
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