The walls I had painted.
The furniture I had chosen.
The life I had created.
“I was wrong.”
Julian frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“The hardest part was believing someone deserved to share it with me.”
The room became quiet.
For the first time that evening, Julian looked uncertain.
But only for a second.
Then his pride returned.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I’m finally being honest.”
He grabbed his jacket from the chair.
“Fine. Sleep on it. Tomorrow we’ll talk when you’re acting normal.”
I watched him walk toward the bedroom.
“Julian.”
He stopped.
“This is my condo.”
His shoulders stiffened.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re throwing me out?”
“I’m asking you to leave tonight.”
His face changed.
Not because he was hurt.
Because he was shocked that I had the authority to make that decision.
“You wouldn’t.”
