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https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter 47 — The Break
What was supposed to be a quick coffee turned into a full-hour caffeine hostage situation. Diane had stories, Ron had his grunts, and Sam and I? We had silence between us—a wordless pact to keep smiling until our faces cracked.
But eventually, there were no more distractions. No more small talk. No more refills.
It was time.
We climbed the stairs like we were headed to a courtroom. No footsteps, just gravity and dread.
When we stepped into her room, Sam shut the door behind us, but the air still felt wide open and cold. She didn't look at me. I didn't know what to do with my hands. I didn't know what to do with anything.
I thought about reaching for her—just a touch. Shoulder, hand, anything to break the invisible wall—but her posture said don't.
So I didn't.
Instead, I stood there like an idiot and asked, "What is this about?"
She took a breath sharp enough to cut glass. "I want a break from us."
The words hit harder than I expected. Like getting the wind knocked out by a swing you didn't see coming.
My jaw worked before my brain did. "Why? I thought everything was going great between us."
Sam's eyes welled, her voice tight. "Everything is more than great."
"Then why?"
Her lips trembled. "I don't know why. I just know that somehow... seeing our families together like that—it freaked me out."
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to argue. Instead, I just listened.
She looked away. "All of this is moving too fast. It feels like... like the walls are closing in."
I nodded slowly. "If that's how you feel, we can slow things down."
Sam shook her head. "I don't need things to slow down. I need space. From you. To figure things out."
There was nothing left to say. I knew that tone—final, resigned, exhausted.
Still, I asked, because I'm stupid like that. "How long?"
She didn't look at me when she said, "I don't know."
I nodded again, because my words were useless now. Then I turned and walked out of her room.
One foot in front of the other. Don't look back.
My body already knew the script before my brain could catch up. The door closed behind me with a soft click, and then I was just… walking. Through the hallway, past the kitchen, out the front door. Everything felt muffled, like I was underwater. The world had sound, but none of it seemed meant for me.
The porch creaked under my steps. The air outside was cool, smelled like wet grass and asphalt, but I barely noticed. I got to the driveway, found my car where I left it.
My keys were in my hand somehow. I don't remember taking them out of my pocket. Just muscle memory I suppose. Like I was on Autopilot.
I climbed into my car like a ghost, like I wasn't quite attached to the ground anymore. I didn't start the engine. I just sat there. Hands on the steering wheel, eyes staring into nothing.
The house behind me was still. The kind of still that comes after something breaks.
Everything had been fine this morning. Better than fine. Our families laughed over barbecue. Gloria and Diane were bonding like old friends. Jay and Ron—the unlikeliest duo—actually got along. It was perfect. It was surreal.
Now? Now I couldn't stop hearing those four words.
"I want a break from us."
It bounced inside my skull like an echo in an empty room. The phrase was small, almost polite—but it had torn the floor right out from under me. I kept replaying it, trying to find the crack in the moment where I could've fixed it, could've changed it, could've stopped it.
But there was nothing. No alternate route. No magic phrase. No fix.
And that was the worst part.
I couldn't do anything.
I gripped the wheel tighter, not out of anger, but to anchor myself. My chest ached in a way that wasn't sharp or dramatic—it was dull, low, constant. A quiet kind of pain. The kind that sits with you and doesn't leave when you ask nicely.
I inhaled deeply.
Held it.
Then exhaled, long and slow.
And with it, I let the hurt pass through me. I didn't fight it. I didn't drown in it either. I just let it be. I gave it space. I honored it.
I felt everything. Every ounce of disappointment. Every shard of confusion. Every breath of loss.
And slowly—so slowly—I felt a strange peace begin to rise. Not the warm, comforting kind. But the still, quiet kind that comes when you finally stop running from a storm and let it rain on you.
I didn't know what being "on a break" meant. Not really. I didn't know how long it would last or what it would look like.
But I knew one thing.
Whatever happened next, I was going to face it. Head-on.
I reached for the keys, turned the ignition, and drove away.