Silence stretched between them.
He didn’t know what to say. The words were there, stuck sowhere between his chest and throat
His feelings for her ca from his younger self.
Built slowly, shaped every ti she comforted him, protected him, stayed when others didn’t.
But even knowing this, his heart still seek for her.
"Terrence... what you’re feeling—it’s not what you think."
She paused, eyes locked on the wine glass "It’s gratitude. That’s what it is."
"And it’s my fault it ca to this. I should’ve... I should’ve drawn the line sooner. I was the adult. I—I knew better, and still..."
Effie’s words trailed off, caught sowhere between guilt and regret.
He clenched his fist beneath the table, knuckles turning pale. "So you don’t have feelings for ?"
"It’s not that simple." she shook her head.
"That’s not an answer."
Effie looked away, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. "I’m sorry,"
"That’s not a damn answer," he snapped. "You took care of , bought things, and even now—" he held up the watch box, "you give this, and expect to believe you don’t like ?"
Her lips parted, but nothing ca out right away.
"You’re right. I did all those things. And I do like you. But that doesn’t an it’s okay to act on it."
"Why not? We like each other,"
"Do you hear yourself right now? What will people say about us?" She looked anxious.
"It doesn’t matter. It never stopped you from spoiling and showering with affection all these years. So what? You just want to keep doing it to satisfy your own fantasies while I’m stuck playing the overly dependent nephew?"
She didn’t say anything. Instead, she lifted her glass and took a full sip of wine.
"Forget about it." He ran a hand through his hair. "I’m done."
Effie’s eyes flickered with regret, like she was wishing she could change her answer.
But deep down, she knew this was the right choice, even if it hurt both of them.
If she acted on her own feelings, everyone would condemn her. They would beco the subject of endless scrutiny and gossip.
anwhile, Terrence felt a big changed.
It was like a part of him had finally given up, and his dominant self began to take over all at once.
His focus sharpened. His thoughts darkened. The world around him lost its color.
’I see... this feeling,’ he thought bitterly.
’This is the emptiness I felt every day—facing monsters, stepping over lifeless bodies, hearing screams as people were ripped apart, watching comrades fall without hope. This is the real . ’
He finally broke free from one of the fixation of his younger self.
"Let’s just finish this dinner and head ho." He smiled at her, but his expression was devoid of any emotion—so much that she felt like she was staring at a completely different person.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.
"Why wouldn’t I be okay? Actually, I should thank you—for making realize my true feelings,"
"Terrence.. I"
"Please, stop doing that," he interjected.
"You used to feel needed, and I used you because it gave sothing to hold onto. We both got sothing out of it—a win-win, right?
He tapped the table. "But now that we’ve outgrow whatever that was, it’s ti to stop playing house."
"But I..."
Before she could say more, he cut her off again.
"Don’t worry. You won’t even have to see tomorrow. I’m moving out."
"Why?" she exclaid. "This is too sudden."
The thought of him leaving made her chest tighten. Without him, the house would be unbearably empty.
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