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The next morning came too quickly for Imani.
She awoke to the soft light creeping through the thin curtains of the motel room, her head pounding from the aftermath of last night's drinks and decisions. For a moment, she lay still, her eyes adjusting to the dim, unfamiliar surroundings. The weight of her actions pressed down on her chest like a heavy stone.
Jobe had said he'd come to pick her up. She checked her phone—no messages. No missed calls. Just silence. It was a strange silence, one that made her stomach twist with unease.
By the time she heard the knock on her door, it was already past ten. She hurried to open it, and there he was—Jobe. His expression was unreadable, and for the first time, she didn't feel the comfort she usually did when she saw him. He looked distant, a kind of coldness in his eyes that she wasn't used to seeing. His hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket, and he didn't smile. Didn't ask if she was okay.
"Ready?" he said, his tone flat, businesslike.
Imani swallowed hard. "Yeah... thanks for picking me up."
Jobe nodded and turned back toward the car without another word. She followed him, feeling the emptiness between them as if it were a chasm she couldn't cross. This wasn't the Jobe she knew—the one who always made her feel like everything would be okay, even when the world was crumbling. This was someone else entirely, someone she wasn't sure she knew how to reach.
The ride was different today. The silence between them wasn't comfortable anymore; it was suffocating. She glanced over at him a few times, hoping he'd say something, anything, but his eyes were fixed on the road. He didn't even look at her. His knuckles no longer gripped the steering wheel in frustration; instead, they were relaxed, indifferent.
Imani's throat tightened as she realized this was worse than him being angry. He wasn't angry. He just... didn't care. At least, it felt that way.
"Jobe..." she started, her voice small.
"What?" he said, not looking at her.
She hesitated, unsure of what to say. What could she say? Everything she wanted to tell him felt wrong, like it wouldn't be enough. She knew how he felt about Jude. She knew how much her recklessness had hurt him, even if he hadn't said it outright.
"I'm sorry," she finally whispered, the words barely leaving her lips.
Jobe's jaw clenched, but he didn't respond.
The quiet stretched out, becoming unbearable. Imani shifted in her seat, glancing out the window at the passing buildings. She could feel the desperation building inside her—desperation to reach him, to fix whatever had broken between them. But every attempt to break the silence felt like it would only make things worse.
"I didn't mean to—"
"Imani," Jobe interrupted, his voice sharp now, cutting through the air like a blade. "Just... stop."
She flinched, her heart sinking into her stomach.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, still not looking at her. "I can't do this right now. I'm trying, but... I need space. Okay?"
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She blinked, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Space. He wanted space. After everything she had put him through, after everything he had done for her, she couldn't blame him. She had been selfish—so focused on her own pain, her own needs, that she hadn't seen how much she was hurting him.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I understand."
Jobe's eyes flickered towards her for the briefest moment, but there was no softness there, no warmth. Just exhaustion. He nodded once, then turned his attention back to the road.
The rest of the drive was spent in silence, the kind that felt like it would never end. Imani stared out the window, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. The city blurred past, but all she could focus on was the hollow ache in her chest, the realization that the one person she could always count on was slipping away from her.
When they finally arrived at her apartment, Jobe pulled the car to a stop but didn't turn off the engine.
"I'll see you around, Imani," he said, his voice neutral, detached. "Take care of yourself."
She wanted to beg him to stay, to tell him how sorry she was, how much she needed him. But the words lodged in her throat, suffocated by the weight of her guilt.
"Jobe..." she started, but he was already looking away, as if he couldn't bear to face her anymore.
"Goodbye, Imani."
And with that, he drove off, leaving her standing alone in front of her apartment. The cold air bit at her skin, but the chill inside her was much worse. She had never felt more alone, more abandoned, and it was all her fault. She had pushed him away, just like she had with everyone else.
Imani walked up the steps to her apartment, her legs feeling like lead. Each step was heavier than the last. When she reached her door, she paused, her hand hovering over the handle. She didn't want to go inside. She didn't want to face the emptiness that waited for her beyond the door.
But she had no choice.
With a deep breath, she turned the key and stepped inside, the door closing behind her with a final, echoing thud.
