Just a Matter of Time

Amara

Heading upstairs to my apartment, I could feel Eric's presence looming behind me like a storm ready to break. His footsteps were heavy, matching the tension between us. The car ride had been a strained silence, and I didn't want to fill it with any more lies or forced small talk.

"We really need to talk, Amara," Eric said, his tone unnervingly calm as we walked into the living room. He tossed his keys onto the table like nothing was wrong. "Your family still thinks we're engaged. Your mom's been calling me nonstop. You've got to tell them the truth."

I turned to face him, my hands trembling as I crossed my arms. "And what exactly is the truth, Eric? That we broke off our engagement two months ago? That I haven't told them because I'm trying to figure out how to explain everything."

Eric's eyes flickered with something—annoyance, not guilt—and his jaw tightened. "I mean you wouldn't have to if you let us discuss this further. You're blowing this way out of proportion. I've apologized, haven't I?"

I scoffed, my patience wearing thin. "This isn't just about an apology, Eric. You lied to me, again and again. You made me believe we were building a future together, while you were out doing who knows what."

His expression shifted, his voice softening in a way that felt rehearsed. "Amara, we had problems. You know that. We were distant, and I—I made a mistake, but you're the one dragging this out. You won't even give me a chance to fix things."

I narrowed my eyes, anger bubbling under the surface. "Fix things? You mean like how you gaslit me every time I questioned you?"

Eric sighed, stepping closer, his tone growing more condescending. "You're being paranoid. This whole thing with me being late to dinner tonight—it's just more of your overthinking. I've been working late, Amara. You know that."

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "Working late? Eric, you've been 'working late' for months. And it's always the same pattern—no texts, no calls, just disappearing."

He stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, eyes narrowing with cold manipulation. "You've got some insecurity, and now you're trying to pin all of our problems on me. I've been patient, Amara. I've put up with this, but you're making it impossible to even talk about the future anymore."

His words hit me like a slap. I could feel the manipulation in every syllable, the way he twisted the situation to make me feel like I was the problem. "Impossible to talk about the future?" I echoed, my voice shaking. "I ended this engagement because you destroyed any chance of a future."

Eric's face hardened. "And you think your family's going to buy that? She's been planning this wedding for a year. She's going to think you're throwing it all away over some made-up scenario in your head. You'll break your mother's heart."

I clenched my fists, biting back the urge to scream. "This isn't about my family, or the wedding. This is about you and me."

Eric crossed his arms, his tone darkening. "I've been there for you through everything, and now you're going to throw it all away because of one bad patch?"

His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. Three years of memories—good and bad—flashed through my mind. The way he held me when I cried after losing my job, how he supported me during my worst days. He was there for me, and I couldn't ignore that. But this—what we had become—it was breaking me.

I met his gaze, my heart aching. "It's not just one bad patch, Eric. You've been lying to me, and I don't know if I can ever trust you again."

His glare deepened, the mask of calm slipping as his true nature emerged. "So that's it? You're completely just done? After everything we've been through?" His voice was sharp, but underneath, I could hear the hurt.

I bit my lip, feeling a tear threaten to fall. I still cared for him. How could I not? Three years of my life were wrapped up in him, tangled in memories of love and laughter. Some part of me still wished he could be the man I fell in love with, the one who made me feel safe. But I couldn't keep pretending things would go back to how they were. Too much had changed.

"I don't want it to end like this," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I don't want to hate you. But I can't keep hurting like this either."

For a fleeting moment, I saw something in his eyes—something soft and familiar. It was the Eric I used to know, the one who had once told me he'd never hurt me. His face softened, and he took a step closer, his voice almost a whisper. "I still love you, you know." His hand brushed mine, and for a second, I believed him. I wanted to believe him.

But just as quickly as that warmth appeared, it vanished. His expression hardened, and he pulled away, his eyes cold and distant. "But don't come crying to me when you realize no one else will put up with your nonsense," he spat, his words dripping with disdain.

The shift was like a punch to the gut, and his words cut deep. But this time, I didn't let them shatter me. I swallowed the lump in my throat, refusing to let him see how much it hurt. "I won't," I whispered, my voice barely audible as I fought back the tears that burned behind my eyes.

As he stormed out, the door closing behind him felt like the end of something bigger than just a fight. It felt like the end of everything we once had, and despite the pain, I knew I had to let him go.