Chapter 12: The Turn Back

The door clicked softly behind me.

I didn't slam it. I didn't even breathe hard. Just walked out like someone whose silence carried its own full stop. The air outside was cooler than I remembered. It touched my arms like a question I wasn't ready to answer.

I made it halfway down the building before I stopped.

Not because he called me.

Not because I regretted leaving.

But because… something felt unfinished.

Maybe I expected him to come after me. Or maybe I didn't. But it was the fact that he didn't do anything that made me pause. No guilt. No resistance. No emotion. Just a man standing in silence after breaking a moment that had tried to bloom.

I turned, just enough to see the outline of the house behind me.

Still, no one followed.

I stood there a while, arms folded, not sure if I was stalling or processing. It wasn't about pride. It wasn't about weakness either. It was something quieter than both the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I had misread what that whole scene was supposed to mean.

I had walked out thinking I was reclaiming something.

But halfway down, I wondered:

Was I walking away too soon?

It wasn't some dramatic urge to run back into his arms. I wasn't in a movie. This was real life, and real life doesn't give you orchestras or slow-motion forgiveness. It gives you choices.

So I made one.

I turned back.

The security man at the gate blinked when he saw me return. I didn't explain. I didn't owe anyone that. I climbed the steps slowly this time, like I was testing the floor for permission. The door was still slightly ajar, like it had never been fully shut after me.

I pushed it open.

Dawn Bill was standing exactly where I left him a glass of untouched wine still sitting on the table, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the painting on the far wall.

He didn't look surprised.

He didn't look relieved either.

Just... calm. Present. Like someone watching a storm pass and wondering if it's really over.

I didn't sit this time. I stood across from him and folded my arms.

I left, I said quietly.

I know, he replied.

And I came back.

He looked at me then. Finally. Not with softness, not with apology but with something that felt… open. Barely.

You always had the choice.

I still do.

A beat of silence passed. Not the heavy kind this time. Just space. Breathing space.

I didn't know what I was expecting from him. An explanation? A confession? A shift in temperature? But all he did was move slowly to the table, pick up the glass of wine, and hand it to me.

Sit, Luna, he said.

So I did.

He sat too across from me now, like we were equals in something unspoken. His voice was even, his eyes steady. You wrote about me.

Yes, I answered. No hiding.

Why?

Because it was the only way I knew how to feel you."

He didn't react. Not with a smirk. Not with offense. Just silence again. But it wasn't rejection this time it felt like thinking.

Did you come back to fix it?" he asked.

No. I came back to... see what's left.

That shifted something. Not visibly. But I felt it a softening around his shoulders. Not surrender. Not warmth. Just… ease.

I'm not good at this," he said after a while. Being understood.

Neither am I," I replied. "But I'm tired of guessing.

He nodded. Then don't guess. Ask

So I asked. What am I to you?

He didn't blink. Didn't stall.

A risk I didn't expect to take. But one I'm not letting go of yet.

I looked at him, really looked — at the man who didn't beg me to stay, but hadn't locked the door when I left. Who didn't offer fireworks, but didn't extinguish the flame either.

Fair enough, I said.

And for now, that was enough.

We didn't touch hands. We didn't declare anything. But the silence between us had changed. It wasn't empty anymore. It was full of something new

He offered to have the driver take me back, but I shook my head.

Drop me off yourself.

He didn't ask why. Just picked up his keys and led the way.

The ride was quiet, not heavy. The silence this time wasn't loaded just... breathing. Like we'd said what we could say, and now the space between us didn't need explaining.

When we got to the front of the gate, he parked and said nothing. Just kept his hands on the steering, eyes forward like always.

I didn't reach for the door immediately. My hand hovered, unsure. My heart beat loud enough to echo in the tight space between us.

He finally turned his head, meeting my eyes. Still unreadable. Still steady.

I'll see you soon, he said.

And maybe that should've been the end.

But I didn't want it to end like that.

So I leaned forward not dramatic, not trembling just enough to close the space.

I kissed him.

A soft kiss. Brief. Not a question, not a promise.

Just... a move. A decision.

He didn't pull away.

But he didn't chase it either.

When I pulled back, I didn't wait for a reaction. I opened the door and stepped down into the night air, heart still steady in my chest.

I didn't look back.

I didn't need to.

Because we weren't naming it.

But whatever it was…

It had begun.

As I walked through the gate, I didn't feel like someone who had returned to something.

I felt like someone who had chosen it.

Not because it was perfect. Not because it made sense.

But because in a world full of noise, Dawn Bill was the one place I didn't have to explain myself.

And I didn't need more than that.

Not tonight.

I paused at the stairway, touched my lips lightly, and smiled not for the kiss, but for the stillness it left behind.

It wasn't validation.

It was something better.

Peace.

The kind you choose for yourself.