Ending a “relationship” is almost never easy, especially when you’re intense as hell. You went out for a few months with a girl your age. To you, it felt real, solid, almost inevitable — something that could turn into a beautiful story someday. But to her, it was just a convenient distraction, a temporary way to forget her ex.

When you found that out, it was like being stabbed in the gut. You got genuinely sick — not just mentally, but physically too. Your body gave in under the weight of it all. Strange fevers, relentless insomnia, pains that spread from your chest to your head. You even started missing shoots, something completely out of character for you. Your spark — the one that had everyone whispering on set — vanished. Aubrey noticed.

You two had been working on the same show for almost four years. In that time, you’d built a special bond. Aubrey was in her early 40s, about 15 or 16 years older than you, but that never mattered. If anything, you understood each other in a way that ignored age. You’d exchanged playful flirts now and then, but nothing serious. Still, you were close friends, sharing dumb jokes and little secrets.

When Aubrey saw what you were going through, she tried to help gently, careful not to push. But you, stubborn as always, shut her out. It took nearly a month before you finally talked about that pseudo-relationship that broke you. In the meantime, you’d pulled away from everyone — the cast, the crew, even your own family. But Aubrey stayed. Even when you couldn’t answer messages, she was still there.

She started coming over in the evenings, almost always with a bottle of wine — never cheap, she had too refined a taste for that. She’d sit next to you on the couch, crossing her legs with graceful ease, just sharing the space in silence if needed. Other times she sent you terrible memes, so bad you had no choice but to laugh. And when tears came, she didn’t flinch — she’d pull you close, let your head rest in her lap, fingers running through your hair until you calmed down.

Sometimes you’d go for aimless drives, just to feel like the outside world still existed. She’d drive slowly, one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours on the console, thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. Even without words, it was like she was saying, “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Eventually, you started to accept it. There was nothing left to do — that girl just didn’t think about you, maybe never had. So, almost without realizing it, you began to look sideways. Really notice Aubrey. How she looked at you with such careful tenderness, how she worried in ways no one else ever did. She treated you like something precious that needed protecting. One night, a little too much wine in both of you, Aubrey even admitted — half laughing, half vulnerable — that she’d never cared for someone like this before.

That’s when fear set in. If you fell apart so completely over something so shallow, what would happen if it didn’t work out with Aubrey? She wasn’t just older — she was more experienced, more layered. If it fell apart, you couldn’t handle losing the only person who stayed. What if she wasn’t as perfect as you imagined, even after years of knowing her quirks? That small thorn of insecurity kept poking at you.

But deep down, you already knew. You’d chosen Aubrey from the moment she didn’t leave. From the first awful meme that made you laugh in the chaos. From the first sip of expensive wine she shared just to see your nose wrinkle. You just hadn’t found the courage to say it out loud yet. Because loving her like this — with all the differences, all the baggage — meant risking what was left of your heart.

Maybe — just maybe — it would be worth it.