After what had happened in the car last Friday, Lesley never called.
No texts.
No surprise visits.
Nothing.
The silence shouldn't have surprised Denisse.
She'd spent the entire week pushing Lesley away, answering with clipped replies, pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn't. She had built the distance herself, brick by brick.
So why did it hurt so much now that Lesley had stopped trying?
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Maybe this was what she deserved.
Maybe Lesley had finally grown tired of chasing someone who kept walking away.
Or worse...
Maybe she'd found someone else to spend her time with.
The thought came uninvited.
Lesley laughing with another woman.
Sharing drinks.
Smiling the way she used to smile at Denisse.
Her chest tightened.
Then another face forced its way into her mind.
Daphne.
Denisse's stomach twisted.
She could still hear Daphne's voice from the rooftop, every carefully chosen word echoing in her head. Every doubt she had tried to bury had only grown louder since that night.
If Lesley wanted something serious with you...
...don't you think she'd have chosen you by now?
She hated that the thought still had power over her.
She hated even more that she couldn't convince herself it wasn't true.
God...
She missed Lesley.
More than she wanted to admit.
Every instinct screamed at her to grab her phone, to call, to ask if they could just... talk.
But what would she even say?
I'm sorry for pushing you away?
I was scared?
Please don't leave me?
Her pride refused to let the words leave her mouth.
No.
Distance was the right thing.
If she stayed away long enough...
Maybe she'd finally learn how to let Lesley go.
Or maybe Lesley would be the one to let go first.
Either way...
Someone had to.
The sharp hiss of another beer can broke the silence.
Denisse stared at the aluminum tab between her fingers before taking a long drink.
Cold bitterness slid down her throat.
It barely registered anymore.
Five cans.
Maybe six.
She'd already lost count.
The pizza she'd picked up from the pizza shop sat untouched on the coffee table, one slice missing only because she'd forced herself to eat something hours ago.
The television flickered in front of her, cycling through scenes she wasn't watching.
The apartment smelled of stale beer, cold pizza, and dishes that should've been washed yesterday.
Takeout containers were stacked on the coffee table.
Empty beer cans littered the floor around her like little silver reminders of another failed attempt to numb herself.
Plates sat abandoned in the sink.
More dishes crowded the dining table.
Normally, the mess would've driven her crazy.
Today...
She didn't have the energy to care.
She rested her head against the couch and took another drink.
A familiar voice suddenly cut through the quiet.
"Hey, your door isn't locked aga—"
The sentence died halfway through.
Silence.
Then—
"What the hell?"
Denisse looked up just as Gigi stepped fully into the apartment.
Her eyes swept across the room.
The overflowing trash.
The dirty dishes.
The empty beer cans scattered across the floor.
The untouched pizza.
Finally...
They landed on Denisse.
Sitting on the floor with another beer in her hand.
Gigi blinked.
"...Did a storm hit your apartment?"
Denisse let out a dry, humorless laugh before taking another drink.
"I wish that was all it was."
Without another word, Gigi crossed the living room and dropped onto the floor beside Denisse.
The aluminum can hissed as she cracked open a beer she'd pulled from the plastic bag near the coffee table.
She took one sip.
Then another.
Only then did she glance sideways at Denisse.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Tell me what happened."
Denisse kept her eyes on the television, though she couldn't have said what was playing.
Silence.
Gigi nudged her shoulder.
"Seriously. Why are you suddenly acting like a heartbroken teenager?"
Still nothing.
Gigi squinted at her.
"...Wait."
Her expression shifted.
"Oh my God."
She pointed the beer can at Denisse.
"You two aren't even officially together yet. Don't tell me you've already broken up."
A humorless laugh escaped Denisse.
"No."
She stared at the beer in her hand.
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it?"
Gigi's voice softened.
"Because you don't end up like..." She gestured around the apartment. "...this over nothing."
The words settled heavily between them.
Denisse lowered her head.
The cold can rested against her forehead as she closed her eyes.
She had spent an entire week carrying everything alone.
Maybe...
Maybe she was tired.
"Daphne talked to me."
Gigi frowned.
"Daphne?"
A beat.
"As in... the Daphne?"
Denisse nodded once.
Gigi leaned back, waiting.
So Denisse told her.
About the rooftop.
About every carefully chosen word Daphne had whispered into her ear.
About how convincing she'd sounded.
How every sentence had found the exact crack in Denisse's confidence and widened it.
She admitted how she'd started pulling away from Lesley.
How she'd answered every text with one-word replies.
How she'd forced herself to smile whenever Lesley looked at her.
How exhausting it had been pretending nothing was wrong while everything inside her was falling apart.
When she finished, the apartment fell silent again.
"...The hell."
Gigi let out a disbelieving scoff.
"The nerve."
She shook her head.
"What gives her the right to do that to you?"
Another shake.
"She's an ex, Denisse. That's all she is."
"I know..." Denisse whispered. "But..."
The word died there.
Because she didn't know how to explain it.
How Daphne hadn't sounded bitter.
She'd sounded...
Certain.
Gigi studied her for a long moment.
Then she asked quietly,
"Have you talked to Lesley about any of this?"
Denisse laughed once.
A broken sound.
"No."
She rubbed at her eyes.
"We've never even talked about... us."
Her throat tightened around the word.
"Our relationship."
She looked down at the beer in her hands again.
"How was I supposed to bring up Daphne?"
Gigi sighed.
"There it is."
Denisse looked up.
"That's the problem with you two."
She spoke gently, but there was no sugarcoating it.
"You don't communicate."
"You keep things to yourselves, convince yourselves you know what the other person's thinking..."
She gave Denisse a pointed look.
"...and somehow expect it to work out."
The words struck harder than Denisse expected.
Because they were true.
Painfully true.
"How could you let yourself drown in all these feelings without asking Lesley if any of it was even true?"
Gigi's voice wasn't angry.
It was disappointed.
"You should've talked to her the day Daphne came to you."
A pause.
"You listened to one side of the story."
Her gaze softened.
"But you never gave Lesley the chance to tell hers."
Something inside Denisse finally cracked.
The tears came before she could stop them.
Hot.
Relentless.
She covered her face with one hand.
She had let fear decide everything.
She had believed the worst before giving Lesley the chance to explain.
"Hey..."
Gigi's voice softened immediately.
She rested a hand on Denisse's shoulder.
"Answer me honestly."
Denisse wiped at her cheeks.
"Do you trust Lesley?"
"I..."
Her voice trembled.
"I do."
"Then what are you so afraid of?"
Gigi asked.
"Why didn't you go to her first?"
Denisse stared at the floor.
The answer felt ugly.
"...Because..."
She swallowed hard.
"...because I was scared Daphne was telling the truth."
The confession left her feeling hollow.
"I don't know, Gi."
Fresh tears blurred her vision.
"But everything Daphne said..."
Her voice broke.
"It felt like she was describing us."
She looked up helplessly.
"Like everything I thought made us different... was just the same thing she'd done before."
"So what?"
Gigi shot back immediately.
"So what if some of it looked true?"
She turned to face Denisse.
"Whether Daphne was lying or telling the truth, you were already hurting. But you chose to carry her words instead of going to the person who could actually give you the answers."
She gestured around the apartment.
"Look at you."
Her voice was quiet now.
"This isn't you."
Denisse hugged her knees tighter.
"I couldn't..."
Her words dissolved into a shaky breath.
"I don't think I could've survived hearing Lesley say it herself."
Her breath hitched.
"That none of this meant anything."
"That I was just..."
The rest caught in her throat.
Gigi was silent for a moment.
Then she asked one last question.
"Since all this started..."
She held Denisse's gaze.
"Has Lesley been giving anyone else the kind of attention she gives you?"
Denisse slowly shook her head.
"No."
"Has she ever made you feel like you were just another person passing through her life?"
Denisse looked down.
"No."
"Has she ever made you feel like what you had with her wasn't real?"
Denisse's lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Instead, memories surfaced one after another.
Lesley waiting outside the office just to drive her home.
The way she'd reach for Denisse's hand without thinking, like holding it was the most natural thing in the world.
The quiet, "Text me when you're inside," every single night.
The way Lesley never cared who was watching when she pulled her close, pressed a kiss to her forehead, or smiled at her like she was the only person in the room.
The way she'd look at Denisse...
Like there wasn't another person worth noticing.
A fresh wave of tears blurred her vision again.
She had never questioned those moments.
Not until Daphne.
"But..." Denisse whispered, her voice trembling.
"That's what Daphne said."
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself.
"She said Lesley always made women feel like they were the only one..."
Her eyes dropped.
"That she made them believe it was different. That they were different."
A tear slid down her cheek.
"And then she'd leave when she got bored."
The apartment fell quiet.
Gigi let her words linger before speaking.
"Look."
She shifted so she was facing Denisse completely.
"I'm not saying this because I'm taking Lesley's side."
Her voice was calm.
"I'm saying this because you're being unfair."
Denisse frowned.
"To her..."
Gigi gently tapped Denisse's chest with two fingers.
"...and to yourself."
Denisse lowered her eyes.
"You deserve to hear the truth from Lesley."
A pause.
"Not from her ex."
The words settled heavily in Denisse's heart.
"You deserve clarity."
The silence stretched between them, thick with everything Denisse had been trying not to feel.
"You don't deserve to spend a week crying over something you don't even know is true."
Denisse's lip quivered.
"I just..."
Her voice cracked.
"I love her so much, Gi."
The confession finally escaped.
"So much..."
She covered her face as another sob slipped through.
"And I was so scared..."
She shook her head.
"So scared that I was the only one who thought this was something real."
Gigi's expression softened immediately.
"I know."
She rested a hand on Denisse's back, rubbing slow circles.
"I know it's terrifying."
She waited until Denisse looked at her.
"But you know what's even scarier?"
Denisse sniffled.
"What?"
"Not giving yourself the chance to know the truth."
Gigi offered a small, reassuring smile.
"You've already imagined the worst."
She squeezed Denisse's shoulder.
"What if the truth is kinder than you've been telling yourself?"
Denisse stared at her.
"What if..."
Gigi smiled a little wider.
"...the truth comes with an 'I love you, too'?"
The words broke whatever strength Denisse had left.
"Gi..."
Her voice was barely audible.
Gigi didn't say anything else.
She simply opened her arms.
Denisse collapsed into the embrace.
The tears came harder this time, soaking Gigi's shoulder as weeks of fear, doubt, and loneliness poured out of her all at once.
Gigi held her without complaint.
"You deserve the truth, babe," she whispered, smoothing Denisse's hair.
"Don't let someone else's words become your ending."
She hugged her a little tighter.
"And if it turns out she doesn't feel the same..."
She pulled back just enough for Denisse to see the sincerity in her eyes.
"You won't go through it alone."
A small smile tugged at Gigi's lips.
"You've got me."
Denisse closed her eyes and cried into her shoulder, holding on as though her friend were the only solid thing left beneath her.
For the first time in days, Denisse let herself stop fighting the fear.
She didn't have answers yet.
She didn't know what Lesley would say.
But she finally understood one thing—
she couldn't keep letting someone else's version of the truth decide what she felt.
And maybe tomorrow, she would be brave enough to ask for the real one.