The Way Things Change

Truth Unraveled

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the park, but nothing about this moment felt comforting. As Betty sat beside me under the oak tree, the silence between us grew heavy, weighted with everything unsaid. My hands were clammy, fingers twisting together as I tried to find the courage to speak. This was my chance, maybe the only one I'd get, and I couldn't blow it.

Betty was calm, but distant, like she was guarding herself, waiting for whatever I had to say. It made my heart sink, knowing that the closeness we once had was gone, at least for now. I cleared my throat, stealing a glance at her. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her eyes were fixed on a patch of grass in front of us. She wasn't making this easy, but I couldn't blame her.

I took a deep breath and decided to just start. "Betty, I'm sorry. I've been trying to find the right words, but I don't think there's a way to make this right. I—I messed up. I should've told you sooner, I should've done a lot of things differently." The words came out all at once, tumbling over each other. "That night with Augustine, it didn't mean anything, I swear."

Betty's eyes flicked up to mine, sharp and guarded. "It didn't mean anything?" she repeated, her tone cutting. "Then why did it happen?"

I felt my stomach knot. "I don't know. I was—" I stopped myself. The excuses I'd been rehearsing in my head sounded hollow now. I couldn't take the easy way out. "I was stupid," I admitted, my voice low. "I wasn't thinking. I was... confused. About a lot of things. But I never meant to hurt you."

Betty's jaw clenched slightly, her gaze steady. "You didn't think about me at all, did you?" She wasn't asking it to hurt me, but the truth in her words stung all the same.

I shook my head, hating myself more with each passing second. "No. I didn't, and that's the worst part. I should've stopped it right away, but I didn't. And I hate myself for that. I hate that I hurt you."

Betty let out a long breath and looked away again, her fingers pulling at the hem of her shirt. "I don't know what you expect me to say, James," she said quietly. "I don't know how to feel right now. I thought... I thought we were good. I thought you loved me."

Her voice broke on the last word, and my heart shattered. I wanted to reach for her, to hold her, but I couldn't. I didn't deserve to. I clenched my hands into fists to keep from doing something stupid.

"I do love you, Betty," I said, my voice shaking. "I love you more than anything. That hasn't changed. I just... I got scared, and I made a mistake. A really stupid mistake."

Betty closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to collect herself. When she opened them again, they were still filled with hurt, but there was something else there too—something softer, like maybe she was trying to understand.

"Scared of what?" she asked, her voice quiet.

The question threw me off. I hadn't expected her to ask that. I wasn't even sure if I had an answer, but I owed her the truth, even if I didn't fully understand it myself.

"I don't know," I said, my voice low. "I guess I was scared of... of messing up. Of not being good enough for you. Things were getting so serious between us, and I—I freaked out. I didn't know how to handle it, and instead of talking to you, I just... avoided it. And then that night happened, and everything spiraled out of control."

Betty's brow furrowed, and for the first time, her expression softened just a little. "You could've just talked to me, James. We could've figured it out together. You didn't have to... do this." She gestured vaguely, as if the mere mention of what had happened was too painful.

"I know," I said quickly, desperate for her to understand. "I know I should've. I wish I had. I've spent every day since that night wishing I could take it back. But I can't. All I can do is tell you how sorry I am and hope that maybe... maybe we can find a way to fix this."

Betty was quiet for a long moment, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, each second that passed making the knot in my stomach tighten. She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her bracelet, her face unreadable.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but steady. "James, I don't know if this is something we can just 'fix.' You broke my trust. You hurt me in a way I never thought you could."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she held up her hand, stopping me.

"I'm not saying it's over," she continued, her eyes meeting mine again. "But I need time. I need to figure out if I can trust you again. If we can get back to what we had before."

Her words were both a relief and a punch to the gut. It wasn't over, but it wasn't fixed either. I wanted to promise her the world, to say I'd never hurt her again, but I knew words weren't enough anymore. I had to show her.

"I understand," I said, nodding. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here, waiting, for as long as it takes."

Betty nodded too, but she didn't say anything else. We sat there for a few more minutes in silence, the weight of everything still hanging in the air between us. I could feel the distance between us, the space that hadn't been there before, and it scared me. But at least now, there was a small sliver of hope.

After a while, Betty stood up, brushing the dirt off her jeans. "I need to go," she said quietly. "I'll... I'll talk to you when I'm ready."

I stood up too, wanting to say something, anything that would make this moment easier. But there were no easy words. So I just nodded, watching as she walked away, her steps slow and deliberate, like she was carrying the weight of everything we had been.

As she disappeared around the bend in the path, I felt a mix of emotions swirl inside me—hope, fear, guilt, and something I couldn't quite name. It wasn't over, but I didn't know what came next. All I knew was that I'd wait. For as long as it took.

I sat back down under the oak tree, the sun now sinking lower, casting long shadows across the park. The air was still warm, but I felt a chill settle over me. I leaned back against the tree, staring up at the sky as it turned from gold to a soft pink.

For the first time in a long while, I didn't feel completely lost. Things weren't fixed, but I had a direction now. I had a chance.

And that, for now, was enough.