That's Not a NO

Chapter 38: Can You Read Between the Lines?

Ash stilled. The faintest pause in his breathing. Then he muttered, “If that’s what you call open.”

Josh’s mouth curved, but not with humor. “For Elise? Yeah. That was wide open. You just don’t know how rare that is.”

Ash’s hands clenched against the edge of the desk. “She’s shut me out again.”

“Of course she has,” Josh said gently. “That’s what she does when she gets scared. She builds walls. She throws barbs. She makes it look like she doesn’t need anyone. It’s survival for her.”

Ash’s eyes flicked up, and for the first time that week, he didn’t look composed. He looked raw. “She made it clear she doesn’t want me there.”

Josh shook his head. “No. That’s just what it looks like from the outside. Inside…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. His voice softened. “Inside she’s probably bleeding out and hating herself for it. She just doesn’t know how to say that without thinking she’s burdening you.”

Ash sat back slowly, chest tight.

Josh hesitated, then leaned in again, his tone lower now, more personal. “Did you know she once told me she knew I’d leave her someday?”

Ash’s head jerked toward him, startled.

“Not in a dramatic way,” Josh said quickly. “Not fishing for reassurance. Just… stating it. Like it was fact. Like gravity. She’s convinced everyone leaves eventually. That’s her constant.”

Something in Ash’s gut twisted. The words landed like a punch.

Josh rubbed the back of his neck. “So yeah, she may show love differently. But when she does? It’s with everything she’s got. No half-measures. No safety nets. All in.” His gaze met Ash’s. “If you give up on her now, there won’t be anyone else who can break through those walls again. She’ll take this as proof. That she'd been right all along.”

The hum of the vending machine seemed deafening now. Ash stared at the desk, but his vision had gone blurry at the edges, chest tight with words he couldn’t shape.

Josh let the silence hang, then rose, gathering his coat. “You don’t have to tell me what happened between you. It’s none of my business. I just… needed you to hear this. Because I care about her. And because I think you do too.”

Ash didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just sat there, frozen, pulse hammering like he’d been struck.

Josh gave him one last look before heading for the door. “Don’t let her convince you she doesn’t need you. That’s the biggest lie she tells.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Ash alone in the quiet office. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. His hands trembled where they rested against the desk.

Ash leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and let out a shuddering breath.

The image of Elise’s face in the elevator flashed across his mind—blank, untouchable, a fortress he couldn’t breach. But beneath it, he caught the faintest flicker he’d ignored at the time: the way her thumb pressed white against her phone screen, the tremor in her breath when the doors slid shut.

He remembered, too, their last dance. The weight of her hand in his, the warmth that had felt so unguarded, like she’d finally let him all the way in. And now, by comparison, the emptiness cut like glass.

His chest tightened.

It wasn’t rejection.

It was fear.

And somehow, realizing that made it worse—because fear meant she still cared. Fear meant she was still his to lose.

---

Across town, Elise lay awake in her apartment, staring at the ceiling. The room was dark except for the neon glow bleeding through the blinds, slicing her walls into crooked shapes.

Her phone buzzed once, twice, before falling silent. She didn’t check it. She couldn’t. The thought of seeing another empty notification or some meaningless reminder felt unbearable, like proof that the world kept moving without her.

Her chest ached with a familiar, bitter weight. She hated herself for the way she’d been acting all week, for the way she’d pushed everyone back into orbit. But silence felt safer than the risk of reaching out and being met with nothing.

She rolled onto her side, curling into herself, whispering into the dark where no one could hear:

Please don’t leave.

The room didn’t answer. Only the hum of the city, endless and indifferent.