LOVE CRAZE

The Failed Swing

Two days after I sent the definitive email to Leo, the universe decided to test my addiction to chaos. It seemed the forces of my past were determined to give me one final, collective curtain call.

I was getting ready for my pottery class, feeling centered and calm, when my phone rang—a number I didn't recognize. I almost ignored it, but a deep, unfamiliar curiosity—the "new thrill" Dr. Elias had talked about—made me answer.

"Hello?"

A familiar, husky voice—one that used to make my adrenaline spike and my knees weak—answered. "Redempta. It's Noah."

The name landed like a sharp stone in the quiet pool of my morning. For a split second, the old craving flared. That voice used to promise adventure, last-minute trips, and passionate, dramatic fights that ended in breathtaking reconciliations.

"oh...Noah," I repeated, my voice steady. "what do you want?!"

He laughed, that characteristic, slightly arrogant sound that used to charm me. "Come on, Red. Don't be like that. We were electric. You can't tell me you don't miss the fire. I'm actually in town—just finished a tattoo gig. I'm right around the corner from your old place, and I was thinking..."

His voice trailed off, leaving the familiar, manipulative hook dangling—the promise of what if.

Old Redempta would have been halfway out the door, fabricating an excuse, needing that dose of high-stakes drama to feel alive. She would have believed that his persistence meant he truly saw her, truly wanted her.

Current Redempta held the phone firmly, focusing on the calm, consistent weight of the mug I was holding. I thought about Ethan's quiet integrity and Lena's simple friendship. I thought about the profound peace of a Saturday night spent alone.

"I remember the fire, Noah," I said, choosing my words slowly. "But I don't miss the burns. I remember the high, but I also remember the crash. The intensity you offered was just chaos, and I don't run on chaos anymore."

He immediately pivoted to the aggressive tactics of the past. "You're boring now, Redempta. You sound like a damn corporate drone. What, you dating some stable accountant now? You traded passion for predictability?"

The jab, which would have shattered my confidence months ago, now felt small and pathetic. He was trying to push the buttons he knew existed, trying to prove his way of life—his chaos—was the only way to be exciting.

"As a matter of fact.. I have" I countered, my voice rising in volume, not in hysteria, but in firm resolve. Why would I explain myself to this loser again?

There was a long silence on his end. He had run out of tricks. He had expected the chase, the argument, the tearful relapse. He didn't expect indifference.

"Goodbye, Noah," I said, cleanly, finally.

I hung up. I didn't block him immediately. I sat with the phone in my hand, observing the quiet space he had left behind. There was no shaking, no tears, and no need to apologize to anyone. Just a deep, settled peace.

The addiction was finally, truly broken. I had faced the architect of my chaos addiction, and his wrecking ball had failed to make a single dent in the foundation I had built for myself. The interview was definitively over. I was ready to start living.