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Lovette's movements took on a mechanical precision, each action carefully calculated. The abrupt vanishing act Chris pulled sent shockwaves through her, but she refused to let the tremors show. The cookies, once a labour of affection, became casualties of a crumbling reality, transferred meticulously into Tupperware.
The thought echoed in her mind—just because he's planning to break up with her doesn't mean he shouldn't have the cookies. Oatmeal, a flavour she never particularly favoured, but today, has become a symbol of unresolved sweetness and bitterness. Tears lurked at the edges of her eyes, threatening to spill over, yet Lovette held them captive, choosing focus over the freefall into vulnerability.
As the cookies neatly found their place, she confronted the spectre of their relationship with cold efficiency. She compartmentalized her pain, sealing it into an imaginary box, a container for feelings that would be dealt with later.
Her hand instinctively rose to her sternum, fingers grazing the delicate firefly necklace he had once given her. The silver pendant rested against her skin, a silent witness to the turbulence within her.
Then, like an unexpected storm, Chris's voice intruded upon the silence.
"I think I love you."
The admission hit her like a discordant note in a symphony. Lovette's hand recoiled from the necklace as if the silver insect had stung her. Her brow furrowed, confusion etching her expression.
"You 'think' you love me?" she questioned, the edge in her voice betraying the calculated composure.
"I'm 99.99% sure," Chris responded, his certainty marred by a trace of hesitation.
"Care to elaborate?" Lovette pressed, her gaze a mix of analytical scrutiny and guarded vulnerability. The Tupperware lid clicked shut, a sound that was almost too loud in the silence. Lovette's eyes, a mosaic of emotions, met Chris's expectant gaze. His "99.99% sure" hung in the air, waiting to be dissected.
He took a step closer as if bridging the emotional gap between them. "My biggest fear was having a girlfriend," he began, his words a hesitant revelation. "And then I met you, and that fear got a little smaller each time we hung out."
Lovette's brow softened, a flicker of surprise mingling with the myriad of emotions. It was an unexpected admission, opening a door into Chris's vulnerabilities.
He continued, "I didn't want to admit it to myself but I've never been good at this whole relationship thing. It scares me, feeling so... connected. But with you, it's different. It's like... the fear is there, but it's manageable. And that's because of you."
"I love it when you correct me when I use a word wrong, but you don't make me feel stupid," Chris rambled, a half-smile playing on his lips. "I love that face you make when I make you laugh."
