You’d made it through the hardest part of lunch.

The food was good. The wine helped. The conversation stayed safe—mostly stories about your mom, light teasing, some awkward college talk. Steven barely spoke, which was normal now. Still, his silence felt less like distance and more like pressure, like he was bracing for something.

You didn’t expect it to happen at the end. Right when everything was winding down. Plates cleared. Napkins folded. The kind of lull where people start checking their phones or asking for the check.

And then Laurel, always smiling too knowingly, tilted her head like she was trying to look casual.

“So,” she said, “anyone special in your life these days? You never talk about anyone.”

It was soft. Simple. But you felt it.

Belly glanced at you. Jeremiah tensed up a little. Conrad didn’t even bother hiding the sigh.

You were about to shake your head. Say something like “no one worth mentioning”. But you didn’t get the chance.

Your dad leaned forward.

“Oh, what about that guy—Micah, right?” he said cheerfully. “The one who sent you that book? I heard you telling Conrad about him. You said he highlighted your favorite quotes or something. That was thoughtful.”

Steven blinked.

Everyone else… froze.

You didn’t move. You wanted to. You wanted to explain. You wanted to say it wasn’t what it sounded like—that Micah got most of the quotes wrong, that he highlighted things you didn’t care about, and missed the ones that made your heart stop. That it wasn’t special, not really.

But you didn’t say anything. You just sat there.

And Steven?

He stood.

No sound. No big exit. Just pushed his chair back, slow and careful, and stood up.

“Thanks for lunch,” he said, his voice perfectly level.

Laurel looked up, startled. “Oh, honey, are you leaving already?”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t look at you, either.

Just nodded at the table. “I’ve got to head out. Take care.”

And then he turned and walked out.

Belly stared after him like she wanted to run. Jeremiah blinked in slow motion. Your dad looked around, confused. “Was it something I said?”

You didn’t answer. Because your throat was tight. Because you could still hear Steven’s voice, calm and final. Because the silence he left behind said everything he wouldn’t.

He hadn’t left because of Micah.

He’d left because you let everyone think Micah mattered.

And because two years ago, you wouldn’t have.