The night was quiet, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, like it's about to break. Olivia had gone to bed hours ago, and I was still sitting on the couch, staring out the window, lost in my thoughts. The city outside was alive, but inside, everything felt still. A part of me wanted to join Olivia, curl up beside her, and let the weight of the day slip away. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us.

It wasn't just her. It was me too. The conversation we had earlier, the one where I'd pushed too hard, made me realize something I hadn't fully understood before. I had built walls around myself—walls I thought were protecting me. But in reality, they had just been holding me back from the one thing I'd always been afraid of: getting hurt.

I leaned back, closing my eyes, trying to push the memories away. But they came rushing back anyway, uninvited, like a wave I couldn't stop.

It was years ago, and I was still that naive kid. The one who trusted everyone, the one who believed that loyalty was something you didn't have to question.

Ryan had been my best friend. My brother, really. We did everything together—read books, sketched, talked about our dreams for the future. He was the one person who understood me, the only person who knew what I wanted out of life. And for a while, I thought we'd always have that connection. We'd always be in sync, always be there for each other.

But then things started to change. Slowly at first, so small I didn't notice until it was too late. Ryan started distancing himself, not returning my calls, not showing up when we made plans. I tried to ignore it, convinced that he was just busy. But deep down, I knew something was off.

And then came the night that everything came crashing down.

I walked into the apartment we'd shared when I was in New York City, expecting to find him writing or playing music or just hanging out like we always did. Instead, I found him sitting on the couch with another guy—one I didn't know. They were laughing, talking like I wasn't even there.

It wasn't just that. It was the look on his face. The look that said he'd been hiding something from me.

"Max," Ryan had said when he finally saw me, his tone too casual. "This is David. He's a friend of mine. We're working on a project together."

I remember how his words hit me, how the realization crashed over me. He had moved on. Without me.

David wasn't just a friend. He was someone Ryan had gotten close to in a way that should have been mine. They had been talking about things we used to talk about. Things I'd thought were what we shared—our plans, our future. Ryan had found someone else to share those moments with, someone who was easier to talk to, easier to trust.

I remember standing there, frozen, my heart sinking with each word they exchanged, each laugh they shared. And when Ryan looked at me, there was no apology. No guilt. Just an empty, cold stare that told me everything I needed to know.

It felt like I had lost more than just a best friend that night. I had lost the version of myself that I had built around him. All those dreams, all those plans, suddenly seemed pointless. And it was in that moment I made a decision. I felt neglected or I was too attached.

I didn't want to feel that way again. I didn't want to trust anyone enough to let them in, to let them hurt me. I didn't want to feel that betrayal again, so I shut myself off. I became the guy who didn't need anyone, the guy who didn't let anyone get close enough to hurt him.

That's when I started pushing people away, including the ones who mattered. People like Olivia.

I wasn't always like this. I wasn't always the guy who kept his distance, who made jokes to deflect anything real. But when Ryan left me behind without a second thought, it changed me. It made me believe that I couldn't depend on anyone. It made me believe that if I didn't open up, if I didn't let anyone in, I couldn't get hurt.

But here I was, sitting on the couch, unable to shake the weight of those memories. And all I could think about was Olivia—how she had started to break down my walls, how she had made me feel things I hadn't allowed myself to feel in years.

I thought I had it under control. I thought I had learned my lesson. But the truth was, I hadn't. I was still that same guy who didn't know how to open up, how to let someone in. And every time Olivia looked at me with those big, searching eyes, every time she asked me what I was thinking or how I felt, I froze. Because the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her the way I'd been hurt.

The door to the bedroom creaked open, and I turned to see Olivia standing there, her hair a little messy from sleep, her eyes soft with concern. She must have heard me moving around, heard the way I was lost in my thoughts.

"Max?" she asked quietly, her voice a little hesitant. "Are you okay?"

I swallowed hard, trying to push everything back down where it belonged. "Yeah."

She walked over and sat down beside me, her presence grounding me in a way I hadn't expected. She was close enough for me to feel the warmth of her, to inhale the scent of her shampoo. But the closer she got, the more I realized I couldn't hide from her. She saw through me in ways I didn't know how to deal with.

"Are you sure?" She said gently, her eyes studying me like she was waiting for me to open up, to share whatever was going on in my head. And for a second, I wanted to. I wanted to tell her everything—about Ryan, about how the betrayal still haunted me, about why I kept pushing people away.

But the words wouldn't come.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice rough, a lie I was getting used to telling.

Olivia didn't press. She just sat there, her hand resting on mine.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel the need to run away. But I knew, deep down, that I wasn't done running from myself. Not yet. And I wasn't sure if I'd ever be ready to let her in completely.

Maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as ready to change as I thought.