Seven months.
Two hundred and thirteen days since she walked away from everything that felt like home. Since she told herself it was for the best. Since she left him standing there, watching her go, waiting for her to turn back.
She hadn't.
Because if she had, she never would have left at all.
She had forced herself to move forward. Forward, as if that was some kind of victory. As if ripping out the part of herself that still ached for him was something to be proud of.
She had even started dating again.
His name was Ethan.
Ethan was good. Steady. Safe.
He didn't shut down when she needed him. He didn't get lost in complex theories she barely understood. He didn't push and pull her in ways that made her feel like she was constantly teetering on the edge of something reckless and consuming and impossible to recover from.
Ethan was exactly what she needed.
Or at least, that's what she told herself.
Because the truth was, he didn't feel like home.
He didn't set her world on fire. He didn't make her laugh without trying, didn't challenge her in ways that made her feel alive. Didn't make her laugh without trying. Didn't memorize every detail of her existence. Didn't kiss her passionately.
But maybe that was the point.
Because Paige had spent too many years tethered to a man who made her heart race, but her head spin. A man who made her believe in impossible things, only to remind her that she was never going to be his first priority.
So, she had chosen safe. Because loving Walter O'Brien had nearly destroyed her.
And she couldn't do it again.
She had longed for him, for them to be again, for the first few months, but then it all had changed. Cabe had told her in casual conversation that Walter was seeing someone. That he had started dating some researcher from Elia's think tank. Someone brilliant, someone logical. Someone who didn't need to be fought for.
The final confirmation that Walter had moved on.
So she did too. She had to. She couldn't waste more of her life waiting for Walter to open his eyes and fight for her.
And for months, she had convinced herself she had made the right choice in moving on, moving forward. That she was doing great.
But nothing, nothing, had prepared her for what it would feel like to see him again.
To feel his presence before she even knew he was there.
Her body tensed, a ripple of unease crawling up her spine as she stood at the café counter. The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end, her skin tightening with an awareness she hadn't felt in months.
And then she looked up, confirming what she already knew.
Walter.
Ten feet away.
And just like that, she was ruined.
The air left her lungs in a sharp, ragged exhale. She barely registered the café around her, the man at her side. The quiet hum of conversation, the distant clatter of dishes. Because the only thing that existed in that moment was him.
He looked… different.
Thinner. Exhausted. The sharp angles of his face more defined, the usual steadiness in his posture fractured. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Like he was trying not to feel what he was feeling.
Like he was trying not to look at her the way he was.
She hated that she could recognize it in him.
And God, his eyes…
Dark. Piercing. Shattering her in an instant.
Seven months, and still, she had never seen eyes like his.
And still, they unraveled her with a single look.
Those eyes were the eyes she had been so sure she'd be looking into when she took her last breath, old and frail, surrounded by their children and grandchildren.
But now, they were the eyes of a lover turned stranger in a coffee shop.
And just like that, the memories crashed into her like a tidal wave.
Back in the garage, teasing him over a case, tossing a pen at him playfully.
Back in his arms, whispering that she loved him, his arms being the warmest, safest refuge after a difficult day.
Back in their bed, tangled in sheets, his voice low and reverent against her skin, his fingertips tracing lazy shapes down her back, his heartbeat a soft lullaby beneath her ear, the way her head would shake when he'd laugh.
Back before it all fell apart.
She needed to look away.
She needed to.
Because if she didn't, she would break right here.
But before she could, she saw it…
The way his fingers twitched, like he wanted to move.
The way his breath hitched, just barely, like he was considering it.
The way his eyes darkened, a war raging behind them, hesitating.
And for that one, fragile moment, she hoped.
Hoped beyond hope.
Hoped that maybe, just maybe, he would do what he never could before.
That he would reach for her.
That he would fight.
But then… a hand tapped her shoulder.
Ethan.
Paige's body went rigid.
She had almost forgotten he was there.
Walter's face barely changed. His expression didn't shift into something bitter or scorned.
But something inside him collapsed. She saw it in the way his shoulders locked. In the way his gaze dimmed, like a flame flickering out.
And it was then, only then, that Paige realized the most painful truth of all.
Walter wasn't going to fight.
Not anymore.
Because she had made him believe she was already gone.
And maybe she was.
Maybe she had spent so long pretending that she had finally made it true.
Maybe this was her own doing.
Maybe this was exactly what she had asked for.
So she did the only thing she could do.
She forced herself to turn away, away from him, away from them, away from the past, the memories, the hope that would crush her, and smile. To laugh at something Ethan said, something she barely heard, something that didn't matter.
And she felt Walter break.
She didn't turn back.
Couldn't.
Because she already knew.
If she had?
Walter wouldn't have been there anymore.
And she didn't know if she could survive losing him again.
But as she walked away, Ethan's hand at her back, the laughter still burning on her lips like an open wound, Paige felt it in her bones.
She hadn't moved on.
Not at all.
And neither had he.
But now, it was too late.
She had to live with this heartbreak that she caused.