Page 158 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

But inside me, everything had.

I kept walking, not really sure where I was going, or what I was trying to outrun.

Did I need distance? Space? Air?

I wasn’t sure.

My hands trembled slightly at my sides. My chest still tight.

And then slowly, the doubt crept in. Quiet at first… then louder.

Did I overreact? The question sat heavy.

Because if I did, I might have fucked it up.

I could still see his face. Hear his voice. That calm, controlled tone that made everything I said feel… too much.

I swallowed.

Maybe he was just stressed.

Maybe I should’ve waited.

Maybe I should’ve been softer. Quieter. Easier… again.

My steps slowed, because the anger was already fading.

And in its place, regret.

I stopped walking.

I just stood there in the middle of a city that didn’t notice me.

I exhaled slowly.

Did I just ruin everything? The thought settled deep.

And for the first time that night, I didn’t feel justified.

I just felt scared.

Scared that I might lose him.

Little did I know… I already had.

June 2025

I didn’t reach out.

Not that night. Not the next day. Not the day after that.

Three days passed—filled with moments that felt like they were waiting for something that never came.

No messages.

No calls.

No “are you home?” or “did you get there safe?”