Chapter 17
BALANCE: HOW STABLE THE CAR FEELS FRONT-TO-REAR
Ididn’t sleep—not after last night’s discussion with Leo. Not after everything that shifted between us because of his sincere remorse and honesty. He laid out his wrongdoing without defense.
It meant more than I was willing to admit to him at the time.
My room is softened by early morning light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, I just lie there, letting instinct take over the way it always does when I’m trying to make sense of something.
I analyze. I don’t jump in without understanding the consequences first. Except, I already have.
Pulling out my phone, I scroll to pictures of Leo that I couldn’t delete after we broke up. Now, I know why.
In one, he’s asleep, one arm thrown loosely across the bed. I remember that morning. His breathing was steady, relaxed. There’s no tension in his face. At the time, I thought it was charming. Now, it’s slowly eroding away my defenses when I remember what we had.
The version of the man who was at my father’s house last night terrifies me, because he makes it easy to forget that he’s the same man who was in my safe space, burning our budding love down. But this version of Leo? The one who is trying?
He’s someone I could fall for all over again.
My chest tightens as I recall what he said that morning. It never truly leaves my mind. Time has merely softened the edges of the pain he inflicted—even if he never meant to. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I recognize this Leo isn’t the same man who hurt me. He’s been different. More open.
Brutally honest.
Just as I’m about to flip to the next photo, my phone buzzes in my hand, pulling me out of my reverie. I glance down at the screen. I brace myself when I see that it’s Aio.
Aio:
So. Are we thriving or spiraling? I need input.
Me:
Define spiraling.
The text bubbles appear almost immediately.
Aio:
If you type “It’s complicated,” I’m flying to Vegas just to judge you in person.
I huff out a quiet breath.
Me:
It’s not that straightforward. That’s for sure.
There’s a pause between her texts. Then she replies,
Aio:
Okay. So, this isn’t about the work.
I hesitate, because aside from my girls, Aio is the one who truly knows me. She knows exactly how I compartmentalize my emotions. How I lock away pain. That I separate professional from personal.
Me:
Not just work.
Three dots blip repeatedly before I get a new text.
Aio:
Tell me. Not the project. Leo.
My thumb stills over the screen because all I’ve thought about all night long is him. Now, I don’t know what to think.
Me:
He’s…trying.
It feels insufficient the second I send it, but it’s also the truth.
Aio:
Do you believe that matters?
I exhale slowly, my gaze drifting back to the ceiling. Does it? It should. But I’m still wary. I type that into our text before adding why I’m hesitant.
Me:
He hurt me.
There’s no delay this time.
Aio:
Yes, he did.
That doesn’t make him a bad person for life.
After all, we’ve all said and done things to people we care about that we regret.
My lips roll inward because I want to find a flaw in her argument. I want to point out the specifics, the way the words landed and reshaped something in me that I’m still trying to recalibrate.
But with the way she phrased it, I can’t, because Aio’s not wrong.
Aio:
Sometimes people don’t realize the damage they’ve caused until after it’s over.
Trust me, I understand that.
I think back to Leo showing up last night. To the quiet steadiness of him and the way he’s been ever since I arrived.
Me:
I’m terrified that if I let him back in, it will happen all over again.
Aio:
Then, when you’re ready, tell him that.
Second chances aren’t about pretending something bad didn’t happen.
They’re about making a conscious decision if what you want now is worth the risk.
Her words surround me with new things to think about.
Me:
And if it goes wrong again?
Her response is both pragmatic and supportive.
Aio:
Then you’ll deal with it the same way you deal with everything else.
You’ll survive it.
And you’ll thrive again.
We’ll be right by your side, at your back. Wherever you need us.
Just as I internalize the feeling Aio’s words cause, she hits me with another truth I needed to hear.
Aio:
Don’t punish him for who he was if he’s no longer that person.
In the end, you’d just be hurting yourself.
My chest tightens because I’ve been doing that. Holding onto the worst version of him even as he’s been showing me something different. That his remorse is—if not genuine—then at least more honest than I expected.
If you never forgive him, then you don’t risk losing him again, the devil in my ear whispers. And that’s how I’ve been acting toward Leo. I can’t even blame professionalism; it was just safer for my heart to believe that.
And that’s not fair to either of us.
I stare at the screen for a long moment, the weight of it settling into something deeper. A decision.
I’m not sure if I can let go of what he said, but I can listen to his explanations. I didn’t do that before. I just kicked him out of my life and tried to move on.
But if I don’t have answers, how will I heal?
Me:
You’re annoyingly wise this early in the morning.
Aio:
I contain multitudes.
A breath of laughter slips out.
Me:
I’ll keep you updated. Going to create a group with us and the girls.
Aio:
Please do. I haven’t had the chance to connect with them in a while.
Plus, they tell stories with less emotional repression.
I lock the phone, setting it back down on the nightstand. For the first time since I saw that I’d be working with Apex Orion, I don’t feel anger or anxiety.
I feel curious about what this did to the people we were and who we are now.
Maybe Aio’s right. I’ll never be able to erase what happened. But I need to decide what matters more: holding onto a grudge or finding answers.
It’s worth finding out.