Chapter 20

The promise lingered between them, delicate and dangerous, like something glass-thin stretched too tight.

Rowan stayed where she was, forehead still resting against Lila’s shoulder, breathing carefully, measured inhales, controlled exhales like the wrong rhythm might cause everything to collapse. The party noise surged and dipped beyond the door, bass thudding through the walls, laughter spiking and falling in waves. It felt unreal, that the world outside was still moving, still careless, while everything inside this room had slowed to a fragile, suspended stillness.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Rowan said quietly.

The words felt small compared to what she meant. I don’t know how to want you without breaking something. I don’t know how to choose you without losing myself.

Lila’s fingers kept moving along the nape of Rowan’s neck, slow and grounding, tracing familiar paths like she was memorizing them. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t rush her. That, more than anything, made Rowan’s chest ache.

“You don’t have to know yet,” Lila said.

Rowan lifted her head. Lila’s eyes were soft, too soft. There was no accusation there, no pressure. Just patience. Certainty. Faith.

It terrified Rowan more than anger ever could have.

“That’s not fair,” Rowan said, her voice rougher now. “You make it sound easy.”

Lila shook her head slightly. “I didn’t say easy.”

Rowan swallowed. “You said not scary.”

“They’re not the same thing,” Lila replied gently. “But they don’t have to be opposites either.”

Rowan let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “For me, they are.”

She stepped back then, breaking the contact before she lost the nerve. The absence of Lila’s warmth was immediate, sharp enough to make her shoulders tense. The room felt colder, emptier, like it had exhaled without her permission.

“We should go back,” Rowan said, gesturing vaguely toward the door.

Lila didn’t move. “Is that what you want?”

Rowan hesitated, the truth pressing against her ribs. “I don’t want to disappear.”

“Then don’t,” Lila said.

It was said simply, like the solution had been obvious all along.

Rowan nodded, fingers curling at her sides as if she could physically hold herself together. She reached for the door, needing movement, needing escape, needing to put space between herself and the version of her that wanted to stay.

Her hand wrapped around the doorknob.

“Rowan.”

She stopped.

Lila’s voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t raised. It didn’t tremble.

It was steady and that somehow hurt the most.

Rowan turned slowly.

Lila stood where she’d been left, shoulders squared but chin lifted just enough to betray her vulnerability. Her eyes searched Rowan’s face, not pleading, not angry, just honest.

“Why am I not enough for you to choose me?”

The question landed with surgical precision.

Rowan’s breath caught. Her shoulders stiffened, like she’d been struck somewhere tender and exposed.

“That’s not—” Rowan started, then stopped. The words died in her throat. She dragged in a breath. “That’s not fair.”

Lila exhaled shakily, her composure cracking just enough for Rowan to see it. “You get to pull me into rooms,” she said, voice calm but fraying at the edges, “kiss me like that, look at me like I’m the only thing in the world and then you leave.” Her jaw tightened. “You always leave.”

Rowan felt it then, the fracture. The moment where this stopped being about fear and started being about hurt. Real, earned hurt.

“So tell me,” Lila continued, quieter now, “what I’m missing.”

Rowan crossed the room without meaning to, stopping just short of touching her again. “You’re not missing anything,” she said quickly. “That’s the problem.”

Lila’s brows pulled together. “Then explain it to me.”

Rowan paced once, hand dragging through her hair, nails scraping lightly against her scalp. “I’ve spent my whole life being told what I’m allowed to want,” she said. “What fits. What doesn’t cause problems. What keeps everything intact.” She let out a short, bitter laugh. “You don’t fit into that.”

Lila absorbed this silently.

“You blow it up,” Rowan added. “In the best and worst ways.”

Lila folded her arms, not defensively, but like she was holding herself together. “So, I’m too much.”

“No,” Rowan said instantly, stepping closer. “You’re too real.”

The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on both of them.

“I just want to know,” Lila said after a moment, her voice softer now, more fragile, “why I’m never the thing you decide is worth the risk.”

Rowan felt something tear open inside her.

She looked at Lila, really looked at her. At the strength she carried so easily. At the way she stood there asking instead of demanding. At the way she still hoped.

“Because if I choose you,” Rowan said, voice low and unsteady, “I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t half-commit. I can’t hide behind excuses.” She swallowed hard. “And if I lose you…” Her voice broke. “I don’t know if I survive that.”

Lila’s expression shifted. Not victorious, not satisfied. Understanding settled in instead, edged with sadness.

“So, it’s safer,” Lila said quietly, “to lose me slowly.”

Rowan flinched like she’d been struck. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to,” Lila replied. “I feel it.”

Rowan closed her eyes, jaw clenched tight. “I’m not asking you to wait,” she said. “Or forgive me. I just—” She opened her eyes again, forcing herself to meet Lila’s gaze. “I need time to be brave in a way I’ve never had to be before.”

Lila studied her for a long moment. Then she nodded, slow and deliberate.

“Okay,” she said. “But don’t confuse time with avoidance.”

“I won’t,” Rowan promised.

They stood there, the space between them vibrating with everything unresolved. Rowan wanted to kiss her again, to seal it, to promise something she wasn’t ready to guarantee. Instead, she stepped back.

“I’m going to go,” Rowan said.

Lila’s lips parted, like she might argue. Then she stopped herself. “I know.”

Rowan hesitated at the door, then turned back one last time. “You are worth it,” she said softly. “That’s the part I’m still catching up to.”

Lila didn’t smile, but her eyes softened. “Just don’t take too long.”

Rowan nodded once and opened the door, letting the noise crash back in.

She didn’t look back as she left.

Outside, the night air was cool and sharp, biting against her overheated skin. The party faded behind her with every step. Halfway down the block, her phone buzzed.

She already knew.

Lila: You, okay?

Rowan leaned against a streetlight, staring up at the dark sky, chest tight.

Rowan: I’m trying to be.

The response came almost immediately.

Lila: Don’t try alone.

Rowan exhaled, something loosening painfully in her chest.

She didn’t know when she’d be ready to choose openly. But she knew this—

Walking away hadn’t ended anything.

It had only named what was at stake.