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He moved deliberately and quietly, making the room feel even more still.
His apartment smelled faintly of orange peel and something older, like coffee that had gone cold days ago. It wasn’t messy, but it didn’t feel lived in either. It felt…
He came back and handed me a glass of water.
I let the question sit. Then I shook my head.
“No. Not even close.”
He didn’t push me.
Jake leaned against the wall but stayed silent.
“I’m 33,” I added.
“And I still fold his laundry like he’s going to notice my effort. But I don’t think he even sees me anymore.”
Jake’s voice came low.
over time? And then all at once. I think he’s seeing someone else.”
“You’re sure about that?
That’s a big… assumption.”
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