“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m really sorry. I was a coward. I should’ve protected you. I should’ve chosen you.”
My expression didn’t change.
He swallowed hard.
“I can fix it,” he rushed on. “I’ll cut ties with them for real this time. I’ll leave. I’ll start over. We can start over. Please, Julie.”
He reached for my hand like he had the right.
I stepped back.
His hand froze mid-air.
And I saw it then—his real panic.
Not love.
Not regret.
Fear.
He wanted a life raft.
And he wanted it to be me.
I stared at him and said the truth, clean as a blade:
“No.”
His face went white.
“No?” he echoed, like he didn’t understand the sound.
“I’m not your rescue plan,” I continued, voice calm, unshaking. “And I’m not going to let you rewrite the past just because the present is finally hurting you.”
Larry’s eyes filled.
“Julie…”
I lifted my chin, steady.
“I’m seeing someone,” I said.
The words landed like a slap.
His mouth opened.
Then closed.
His knees buckled slightly like his body couldn’t support what his mind was hearing.
“You… you are?”
“Yes,” I replied. “And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t take you back.”
Larry’s breath hitched.
He dropped to his knees right there on the sidewalk.
A grown man.
Begging.
In public.