Chapter 27 - The Realization
Ginny didn't go to work on Sunday.
That alone should've alarmed the universe.
She lay sprawled across her bed, phone in hand, staring at an empty notification bar like it had personally betrayed her.
No "Good morning."
No sarcastic meme about overtraining.
No calm check-in asking if she'd eaten.
Silence.
And the silence was loud.
She turned onto her side and buried her face in Jayna's hoodie—the one she'd "borrowed" during the rain night and conveniently never returned.
It still smelled faintly like her.
Clean soap. Mint. Something steady.
God.
She squeezed it tighter.
"I'm fine," she muttered into the fabric.
She was not fine.
Because now that the pretending was gone... so was Jayna's presence.
And Ginny hadn't realized how much space Jayna had quietly occupied in her life.
—
She missed the touches first.
Not dramatic ones.
Not even the kiss.
She missed the subtle, grounding ones.
Jayna's hand at the small of her back guiding her through a crowded room.
The way her fingers would lightly squeeze Ginny's wrist under a table when she started rambling.
The gentle brush of their shoulders when they walked side by side.
Jayna had never been clingy.
She had been intentional.
Every touch had meant something.
Ginny hadn't noticed how much she relied on that until it disappeared.
—
Then she missed the laughter.
Jayna didn't laugh loudly.
She laughed in soft bursts, head tilting slightly, dimples appearing like a reward.
Especially when Ginny said something ridiculous.
Especially when Ginny was being too much on purpose.
There was something addictive about making Jayna laugh.
Like cracking open a vault that only opened for her.
Now that sound was gone.
And the world felt duller without it.
—
But what she missed most—
was the presence.
Jayna's steadiness.
The way she stood beside her without trying to control the chaos.
The way she listened.
Actually listened.
The way she never rushed Ginny's spirals—just waited them out patiently.
The way she made rooms feel safer just by existing in them.
Ginny sat up slowly, heart heavy.
This wasn't about ego.
This wasn't about losing a convenient fake fiancée.
This was about losing someone who had chosen her.
Over and over.
Even after being ghosted.
Even after being used as a cover story.
Even after being kissed and then discarded.
Ginny pressed her palms to her face.
"I'm such an idiot," she whispered.
Her phone buzzed.
She jolted.
It wasn't Jayna.
It was Apple.
Ginny groaned.
She typed back:
The typing bubble appeared immediately.
Ginny rolled her eyes but her chest tightened.
Ginny stared at the words.
Love.
It felt too big.
Too vulnerable.
Too permanent.
But when she closed her eyes, she saw:
Jayna in the rain, laughing as they ran.
Jayna's fingers carefully drying her hair with a towel.
Jayna asking softly in bed, "Are we still pretending?"
Jayna's quiet, steady hurt when she said it was just a lie.
Ginny's throat burned.
She typed slowly.
The words made her heart slam violently against her ribs.
Apple's reply came instantly.
—
Later that afternoon, Ginny drove past Jayna's gym without meaning to.
At least, that's what she told herself.
She parked across the street and watched through the large glass windows.
Jayna was inside, spotting a client during weight training.
Focused.
Encouraging.
Strong.
When the client succeeded, Jayna smiled.
And there they were.
The dimples.
Ginny's chest physically ached.
She remembered the first time she'd seen that smile up close during the fake engagement announcement. The disbelief. The spark.
Somewhere along the way, pretending had stopped feeling like pretending.
She'd fallen in love in the in-between moments.
In shared glances.
In quiet support.
In rain-soaked laughter.
And she'd thrown it away because she didn't trust herself to keep it.
Jayna stepped aside to grab a towel, wiping her neck.
Ginny's gaze softened.
She didn't just miss Jayna.
She missed being seen by her.
Missed being chosen.
Missed choosing her back.
Her hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"I don't want to lose you," she whispered, even though Jayna couldn't hear it.
For the first time, the fear didn't scream louder than the longing.
The longing won.
Ginny started the engine again but didn't drive away immediately.
She watched Jayna one last time before pulling into traffic.
This wasn't about saving face.
It wasn't about proving gossip wrong.
It wasn't about reclaiming pride.
It was about being brave enough to say:
It wasn't a lie.
I wasn't pretending.
I love you.
And this time—
She wouldn't run.