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“I want Robin.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

When I get home twenty minutes later, Mike’s words echo in my mind, “I just think you guys need to talk.” That’s the problem, though. I have a feeling that conversation won’t lead to a happy ending. How could it, if I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future?

The next couple of weeks go by in a blur. I have dinner with my coworkers and spend a whole evening playing board games with my sister. Every day feels like an out-of-body experience. I’m simply going through the motions, an endless numbness following me everywhere.

Wake up. Breakfast. Work. Lunch. Work. Exercise. Dinner. Sleep.

Robin and I text and talk on the phone. Some days, everything seems fun and normal between us, and on other days, I practically feel her sadness seep through the phone.

Wake up. Breakfast. Work. Lunch. Work. Exercise. Dinner. Sleep.

When I left Cottondale, I thought I needed to come back here to figure everything out away from Robin. But my job and other responsibilities are pulling me under, and the clarity I was looking for is nowhere to be found. Everyone expects something of me, and I hate disappointing people. Robin is the only one who never asks anything of me.

Wake up. Breakfast. Work. Lunch. Work. Exercise. Dinner. Sleep.

My boss calls me into his office because I didn’t immediately accept the promotion. I explain that I need time to think about it, and I see the disappointment in his face. He was so understanding over the summer when he gave me time off, and now I feel like I owe him. He reiterates how important my role is. “We’ve been doing great work,” he reminds me before I leave his office.

Wake up. Breakfast. Work. Lunch. Work. Exercise. Dinner. Sleep.

There’s a monotony to my life that I’ve never experienced before. It’s as if all the color got sucked right out of it, and I am living in a black-and-white reality.

I don’t know what to do.

Letting go of my obligations just to get what I want seems selfish. But letting go of Robin is … unimaginable. I know she’s what I want. It feels as if I’m forced to choose who and what to abandon.

On Sunday night, I call Robin again. It rings a few times, but then it goes straight to voicemail. I try a second time, but still nothing. It’s an hour later when she finally calls me back.

“Hey. Sorry, I was with Kora.” She doesn’t sound sad today, so that’s a relief.

“No worries, love. How was your day? What did you guys get up to?”

“We just had dinner and talked. How was your day?”

“Boring.” I lie down on the couch and hug a pillow to my chest. “Hey, I was thinking and … I’d like to come visit soon.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and my stomach drops. I was hoping for excitement, not hesitation.

“Oh, really?”

I can’t decipher her tone, and worry gnaws at me. “Yes. If you want that. I miss you.”

“I mean, yeah. That––Yeah, that would be nice.”

Yeah, that would be nice?

God, I’m so fucked.

“Are you sure?” I squeeze the pillow tighter to my chest. “You don’t sound super excited.”

“No, no. I’m excited.” The words come out of her mouth quickly. “I just …”

I give her a moment to continue, but she doesn’t. “Just what?”

“Are you sure you have time?”

“Of course I have time for you. I always have time for you.”