ROOTED 6
CHAPTER 6 “You’re fading.” The words came quieter than he intended. Carlie followed his gaze, glancing down at herself as if confirming what he already saw. “Maybe,” she said. Jonathan’s chest tightened. “Stop saying it like that.” “Like what?” “Like it doesn’t matter.” Carlie looked back at him. There was no fear in her expression. No resistance. Only a kind of quiet understanding that made his frustration feel misplaced. “It doesn’t matter to me the way it matters to you,” she said gently. Jonathan took a step closer without realizing it. “It matters to me.” Carlie’s expression softened. “I know.” Silence settled between them again. But this time, it was not the same silence they had shared before. This one felt thinner. As if something within it had begun to unravel. “What was she like?” The question came so softly it almost went unnoticed. Jonathan blinked, caught off guard. “What?” “The girl,” Carlie said. “At the café.” He looked away instinctively, his thoughts shifting too quickly for him to follow. “She’s just someone who works there.” Carlie did not move. “That’s not what I asked.” Jonathan exhaled slowly, his gaze settling somewhere past her shoulder. It would have been easier to dismiss it. To say it meant nothing. But the truth lingered, quiet and persistent. “She’s… easy,” he said finally. The word felt strange, but it was the closest he could find. Carlie waited. He continued, more quietly now. “She talks like things don’t have to be complicated.” He paused, his brow tightening slightly. “Like nothing’s… heavy.” The moment the words settled into the air, something shifted. Jonathan felt it before he saw it. A subtle change. A quiet release. Carlie did not look hurt. She did not turn away. Instead, something in her expression softened even further. “That’s good,” she said. Jonathan frowned. “That’s not what I meant.” “I know.” He looked at her, confusion threading through his thoughts. “You’re not upset?” Carlie shook her head gently. “No.” “Why?” She took a small step forward. The movement was slower now. Lighter. As if the space between them required less effort for her to cross. “Because you’re starting to feel something again,” she said. Her voice was soft. Certain. “And you’re not afraid of it.” Jonathan’s chest tightened. “I am not replacing you.” “I know.” “I’m not moving on.” Carlie held his gaze. There was no hesitation in her answer. “You already are.” The words settled deeper than he expected. Not sharp. Not forceful. But undeniable. Jonathan shook his head, though the motion lacked conviction. “No.” But even as he said it, something inside him resisted. Not fully. Just enough to make him unsure. Evening arrived slowly. The light outside dimmed, fading into softer shades that slipped quietly through the curtains. The apartment returned to its familiar stillness, shadows settling into their usual places as if nothing had disturbed them at all. Jonathan sat on the couch, his body angled slightly forward, his hands loosely clasped together. The television flickered in front of him, its images shifting soundlessly across the screen. He was not watching. Carlie sat beside him. Closer than before. Close enough that, for a moment, he almost forgot what was happening to her. “You’re thinking about going back,” she said. Jonathan did not look at her. “Maybe.” The word felt unfamiliar. Like something he had not allowed himself to say in a long time. Carlie’s smile was small. But it was real. Jonathan turned his head then, his gaze settling on her fully. For a moment, everything else faded. The apartment. The silence. The slow, inevitable change that neither of them could stop. All he saw was her. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said quietly. The words carried more weight than anything else he had spoken that day. Carlie’s expression softened in a way that felt both familiar and distant at the same time. “You’re not losing me,” she said. Her voice was steady. Gentle. “I’m just not meant to stay like this.” Jonathan swallowed, his throat tightening. “That doesn’t make it easier.” “I know.” She looked at him for a long moment. As if memorizing him. As if she was already preparing for something he still refused to accept. “You don’t have to hold on so tightly anymore,” she said softly. This time, the words did not feel like something to argue against. They felt like something waiting. Something inevitable. And for the first time since she said it— Jonathan did not try to deny it. He just sat there. Quiet. Still. Caught between what he had held onto for five years… and what was finally beginning to loosen its grip.