Spring [Completed]

TWENTY-TWO

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HER

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am•biv•a•lent
adjective
1. having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas about something or someone.

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I think I'm stuck in a state of in between. In between acceptance and denial, in between moving on and being stagnant. I'm stuck in an endless cycle of in-betweens and it's all because of Ethan.

He's a reminder of something more. Something unattainable and great. His existence in my life pulls me, like a magnet, towards the unknown, and it's the uncertainty, the room for error, that keeps me in this permanent limbo.

I need to find direction. A purpose that doesn't revolve around choosing Ethan or Josh. I need to choose myself. It's the only way I can truly be content with my life again. I am the final destination. I just wish I knew what steps to take to actually get there. Back to me...back to living...back to waking up with purpose and a plan. I can't just be Josh's wife or Cara and Demi's mom. I need to be Imani again.

The air around me is electrified, and with every step that I take down the familiar hallway, I grow a little more confident. All that confidence seems to vanish the moment I reach his door. Steeling myself for what's to come, I knock on the door and hold my breath.

After waiting for what feels like a lifetime, the door finally swings open, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Imani?" Ethan furrows his brows as he stands in the doorway, looking tired and confused. He scratches the back of his neck as a soft yawn escapes his mouth. "What are you doing here?"

I adjust the strap of my purse on my shoulder and enter his apartment. Surprisingly, he closes the door without protest, and turns to face me. "We need to talk," I say, pressing my lips into a firm line.

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"Imani, I'm glad you came, but I do wish you would've called first," Ethan says, rubbing his eyes as he pours himself a cup of coffee.

I shake my head when he tips the coffee pot towards me. "Sorry." I smile sheepishly. "It was a spur of the moment thing. I didn't expect you to be sleeping in the middle of the day..."

Ethan shrugs as he leans against the counter and stares into his coffee mug with a tired expression. "Night shift."

Frowning, I rest my purse on the counter and gently touch his arm. "Again, I'm sorry."

He tenses when I run my thumb along the bare skin on his wrist before giving it a light squeeze. I ignore the tightness in my chest when he clears his throat and pulls away from me. "So," he says, nonchalantly taking a sip of his coffee. "What did you want to talk about?"

"You think...maybe, we could sit down and talk somewhere?" I ask, partly stalling and partly unsure about what I want to say.

Ethan nods, motioning for me to follow him into the living room. After grabbing my purse, I follow and take a seat, a safe distance away from him, on the couch.