the spaces between

breaking

she finally stood up and padded down the hall to her dad's office.

"hey," she said softly, pushing the door open.

he looked up from his laptop, surprised. "hey, sweetpea. everything okay?"

she nodded. then shook her head. then sort of shrugged, all at once.

her dad closed the laptop. "what's going on?"

ruby leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "i think i messed everything up."

"with school?"

"with matt."

he blinked, then sat back in his chair. "come here."

she walked in slowly and sat on the little sofa near his desk, curling her legs under her. her dad always made things seem simple, like life was just puzzles waiting to be solved. but this didn't feel like a puzzle. it felt like falling.

"i thought i was doing everything right," she started. "i thought... i thought if i was good enough, if i just said the right things, looked the right way... it would work."

"ruby—"

"i don't think i'm the one," she blurted. "for matt. i don't think he... i don't think he ever looked at me the way he used to look at—" she cut herself off, fingers twisting in her lap.

"at isa?" her dad finished gently.

she nodded, lips trembling.

he let out a soft sigh and moved to sit next to her. "honey, sometimes people love the idea of a relationship more than the person they're in it with."

"are you saying that's what matt did?"

"no," he said carefully. "i'm saying maybe he doesn't know what he wants. but that doesn't mean there's something wrong with you."

"but it feels like there is," she whispered. "i'm so tired of pretending like i don't notice when he drifts off during our conversations. or when he looks... sad. like he's waiting for someone else to text him."

"have you talked to him about it?"

"i don't know how to," she said. "because if he says yes, if he says he's still in love with her... i don't think i can unhear that."

her dad put an arm around her shoulders. "then maybe it's not about what he says. maybe it's about what you need."

ruby rested her head against his shoulder, finally letting the tears fall. "i just wanted to be enough."

"you are," he said, voice firm. "but maybe not for him. and that's not your fault."

she cried quietly for a while, letting the weight settle.

outside the office, the house was still clean. the windows still shimmered.

but in here, ruby parfait finally stopped pretending.

isa hadn't moved from the floor.

the light was different now—slanted and soft, the kind that made everything feel a little more breakable. her guitar lay beside her, strings quiet. her notebook was still open to the christmas song, and even though she wasn't looking directly at it anymore, she could see the page perfectly in her mind.

she could still remember writing it. the glitter gel pen she'd stolen from riley. the doodles in the margins. the way she kept rhyming "light" with "night" even though it was painfully obvious.

but there was something kind about the song. simple. honest. back when her voice didn't shake when she played. back when matt used to ask her to replay the bridge just to hear it again.