The room was still, save for the hum of distant traffic and the rustle of the sheets tangled between them that still held the heat of their bodies, but the air between them had gone cold. Micha lay on her side, back to James, her spine stiff with the weight of unsaid things, still half- naked, unusually silent and her breathe uneven.
James stared at the ceiling, jaw clenched, letting silence drag until it started to burn. He stared up at the ceiling, heart pounding with the kind of irritation and annoyance that simmers for too long before finally boiling over.
"You gonna tell me what that was back there? You're still mad about Emmie and Alison?" he said finally, voice flat and low.
Micha didn't answer. She never did right away when she was like this—quiet, brooding, shutting down behind invisible walls.
James turned to her, eyes sharp. "No, seriously, Micha-- that's what we're doing now? Sulking over a girl you introduced me to? Emmie's name comes up and you act like I kicked your damn dog."
Micha tensed.
That made her roll over. "Wow."
"Well?" he snapped, eyes narrowing. "Don't 'wow' me. I'm not the one sitting here stewing in jealousy over people you told me I could be with."
Her eyes flared. "I didn't say I was jealous."
"No? Oh really?" He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks a hell of a lot like you are. Alison texts me and you give me that look. I mention Emmie and suddenly you're cold as ice. But sure—tell me how this isn't jealousy. You know what? No. I'm not doing this silent treatment bullcrap. You got something to say, say it."
She pulled the covers tighter around her, defensive. "I just didn't think you'd get that close to Emmie. I also downplayed Alison's obsession, it's pathetic, really."
James scoffed, laughing bitterly. "What the hell did you think was gonna happen, Micha? You opened the door, handed me the damn key, and now you're pissed I walked through it? Moreover, you didn't think I'd fall for anyone, especially you? In the open relationship you begged for?"
"That's not fair. I thought you'd still—" she stopped herself, the words catching in her throat.
"Still what? Tiptoe around their feelings so I don't hurt yours?" he barked. "You made the rules. You said love wasn't supposed to be a cage. Now you're acting like I betrayed you just because I followed them. What's not fair is acting like I'm the one screwing everything up while you sit there playing the victim. You want to talk about fair, Micha? Let's talk about last week. Let's talk about how I walked into our apartment and found you in bed with two guys. Two."
Her face cracked—vulnerable and stung. she flinched like he'd slapped her.
He saw it, and for a second, guilt tried to claw at his chest, but he pushed it down. "You can't play enlightened and then pull the rug out when reality doesn't look like your fantasy. You want honesty? Fine. Here it is: you told me we could be open. So I let myself be open. And now you want to punish me for it. I still haven't forgiven you for that."
"I'm not punishing you," she whispered, voice shaking. "I'm just—hurting. It was a mistake. I was drunk-- "
"Save it, you weren't drunk enough to forget my name, though. You knew exactly what you were doing. And now you want to come for me over Emmie and Alison? Crying about how I'm getting too close to them? Seriously? Don't make me feel like I'm the villain in a story you wrote. You didn't just cross a line—you erased it."
Tears welled in her eyes, and James looked away, scrubbing a hand down his face.
"I'm sorry." Her voice cracked.
"Then you should've said that before you went and proved I couldn't trust you. God, I don't even know what you want from me anymore."
She looked up slowly, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. "I want to matter more. I want to stop pretending I'm okay with watching you give parts of yourself to other people when I'm here, wondering if there's anything left for me."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
The fire in James's chest flickered at that. Harsh edges softened, but not completely. He exhaled hard.
Micha sat up, pulling the sheets over her chest like they could shield her from the truth. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Yeah? Well, you did," James said. "And here's the kicker: I still wanted to work it out. I'm trying. But then you sit here throwing shade about who I'm with when you haven't even tried to own your shit. If this setup isn't working for you anymore, then say it. Don't sabotage it from the inside and then cry foul when it falls apart."
She didn't answer, just stared at him, devastated, lips trembling.
He leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm not saying I'm perfect, but at least I'm being honest. You wanted real. Well, this is real. It's not clean or perfect or romantic. It's messy. And you don't get to change the rules just because you're uncomfortable now. I gave you space. And when you used that space to cheat? I didn't walk away. So don't sit there acting like my connection with someone else is the worst thing in this bed."
Micha buried her face in her hands.
James leaned back, exhaling hard, trying to push down the sting in his throat. "I don't know if I'm more pissed that you hurt me or that you think you can turn this around on me like I'm the problem."
"I'm not trying to turn anything around," she whispered. "I'm just scared."
Silence swallowed the room.
He looked at her for a long moment, expression unreadable. "Good. You should be. Because I don't know how many more cracks this thing can take before it shatters."
Micha didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Not when all the love in the world suddenly felt so heavy, so fragile, and so far out of reach.
Eventually, Micha lay back down, her face turned to the wall again.
James stayed sitting up for a long while, listening to her breathe, the ache between them as loud as a scream neither of them wanted to be the first to admit.