Page 116 of Pets in Space 10

The bell above the door of Balance and Breath chimes, a ridiculously gentle sound for the storm brewing inside me.

The studio is quieter now, the last class participants trickling out, leaving behind the scent of sweat, lavender, and lingering intentions.

Mats are rolled, blankets folded. Soft light casts long shadows and makes the space intimate and way too small for the confrontation I have planned.

Rhys is wiping down the reception counter, his back to me. His shoulders seem tense. Good. Mine are trying to strangle my neck.

“You busy?” My voice sounds rough, scraping against the quiet.

He turns, surprise smoothing the lines of worry around his eyes before they return, deeper this time. “Rosa. Hey. No, just cleaning up.” He puts the cloth down, leaning his hip against the counter, his gaze wary. “Are you… okay? After yesterday?”

“Peachy.” The word comes out neutral, and I’m impressed with my restraint. “I found out my sister might be responsible for you ghosting me last year.” I hold my hand up, fingers pinched. “Small detail.”

His eyes widen. He straightens up, his expression shifting from wary to alarmed. “What?”

I nod. “Just tell me what happened.” I cross my arms, needing the physical barrier. “Because I can imagine it, but I’m not one hundred percent sure of the situation. She cornered you after our date? Gave you the ‘stay away from my sister’ speech?”

He stares at me, then his gaze drops to the floor.

He runs a hand through his hair, the attractive, nervous gesture making me want to scream.

“She… yeah. She did.” Looking up at me, his eyes meet mine.

“She found me leaving here. Said I wasn’t good enough, that I was tangled up with someone else.

Which, okay, was true. And I had to back off before I hurt you. ”

“And you listened?”

“It wasn’t just that, Rosa, I swear.” He takes a step towards me, hands held out, palms up.

Pleading. “It was complicated. Like I told you. Chloe was a mess, showing up, crying, threatening… And then Demi comes at me like some kind of avenging angel? It freaked me out. I panicked. I thought maybe… maybe Demi was right. Maybe I would hurt you. Maybe backing away was the right thing, the safer thing for you.”

“Safer.” I scoff, the sound brittle. “You think vanishing without a trace was safer? You think letting me wonder for a year what I did wrong was kind?”

I inhale and throw water on the fire burning in my chest. I need to be honest. Just be honest with him, Rosa.

“Last year was a slow torture for me. I replayed every moment of the date, analyzed every text. I spent hours, weeks, searching for the fatal flaw, the misstep that sent you running.”

The self-doubt had festered, a constant background hum beneath the surface of my life.

It was like that for months before it faded.

But every time someone mentioned dating, the idea of trying to find a match made the fear and doubt return.

I had found someone I clicked with, who showed interest in me, and he had disappeared. I didn’t want that again.

Hearing him admit Demi played a part doesn’t erase the sting of his silence, of being discarded without explanation. Can I let it go? Can I trust the man standing here now when the ghost of his past actions is still so tangible?

“It was cowardly. It was stupid. I know that.” His voice is raw. “I regretted it. But Chloe had sunk her claws back in, and I was trapped. And ashamed. How could I call you after disappearing like that? After listening to your sister instead of my own gut?”

So, his story about Chloe is true. And Demi’s interference had poured gasoline on the already smoldering fire of his commitment issues. Fantastic. A collaborative effort in screwing up my life.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and let it all out slowly.

Raimei’s words from the garden surface through the fog of hurt: You don’t get to control most of it.

.. figure out the next step. He’s right.

People make messes — Demi, Rhys, me included.

I can stay stuck replaying the past, blaming them, or I can try to find my footing again.

A second chance isn’t just about him; it’s about me choosing how to move forward from this point, from this mess.

Possibilities, Raimei called them. Even if they’re grim right now, the next move has to be mine.

“So, where does this leave us now?” I ask, the question hanging heavy between us. “Are you going to panic and run again? Because my life is a flaming dumpster fire, in case you missed the memo. Laid off, injured, betrayed by my family… I’m a walking red flag.”

He steps closer, his gaze earnest, searching mine. “What happened yesterday… the email, your reaction… I get it. You’re scared. You’re hurting. But pushing me away won’t fix it.” He reaches out, his fingers brushing my arm. Electricity sparks at the contact point.

His sincerity feels real. His touch is still electrifying. A part of me wants to lean into him, to believe him, to let him be the anchor in my storm.

“We both ran,” he reminds me, and I wince. He’s right. “We both have issues we’re dealing with.” But then he hesitates, his expression clouding over again. “There’s… something else.”

My stomach plummets. Oh, here it comes. The other shoe.

“What?” My voice is a choked whisper.

“If we’re going to be honest with each other, then I need to tell you everything. No sparing you the details to save hurting you, right?“

My heart is beating way up in my throat. “Yes.”

He sighs and pulls his hand back. “This studio, someone wants to buy it. A big fitness conglomerate. They made me an offer.”

I stare at him. “You’re thinking about selling?”

“I don’t know.” He won’t meet my eyes. “It’s a lot of money. And after yesterday, after you ran, I wondered. Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe trying to make things work here, with us… I don’t know. Are we doomed? Should take the offer? Start over somewhere else?”

Ice water replaces the blood in my veins. Selling? Leaving? Just when things feel like they might, possibly, maybe, have a sliver of a chance? The whiplash is nauseating.

But he’s asking me. ”Should I take the offer?” He wants my permission.

No. This has to be his decision, not mine.

“I see.” I do. I can understand this whole situation, even if I hate it. Everything is working against us. “You’re asking me, but it should be your choice.” I pull on my therapist’s mask like a cloak.

“I haven’t made the choice yet. You seemed determined to run away from me yesterday, and I wonder if Demi was right. I’m not sure I’m good for you.”

A strange, cold clarity descends on me. Everyone.

Everyone thinks they know what is best for me, what path I should take.

Dad wants me focused on the I.A. and healing.

He thinks I should push aside romance. The I.A.

decides my skills are ‘non-core.’ Demi appoints herself my guardian, deciding who I should date.

And now Rhys, facing a hurdle, is contemplating selling his dream and disappearing again.

My life is a boat being yanked in ten different directions by currents I haven’t chosen.

Time to get out the paddles and direct the boat myself.

Honesty, Rosa. Pull off this bandage, once and for all.

“No,” I say, the word quiet but firm. “I’m not going to run away, and I’m not going to let other people determine what’s best for me anymore, either.

You are good for me, but your life is your life, Rhys.

And if you think selling the business and moving away is what’s best for you, then that’s what you should do. ”

He looks up, confused.

I press my hand to my chest. “I would like for you to stay and see if we’re compatible beyond this fucking mess we’ve made.” I take a step back, needing space, needing air. “But I’m done letting other people dictate my choices, my feelings, my future. My dad, my sister, the I.A., even you.”

“Rosa, everyone cares about you.”

“Maybe so.” My voice is shaking, but not with tears. With resolve. “But right now, I’m going to make calm and rational decisions, like I should have been doing from the start.”

The hurt is there, sharp and deep, but beneath it, something else is solidifying. A need to stand on my own two feet, even if one of them is injured.

“I’m going to go now,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’m going to give you space. Give me space. To think. About what I want, what we want. About what I’m going to do next. Without anyone else’s input or interference or potential escape plans.”

He looks like I’ve slapped him. The hurt in his eyes is profound, but this time, I don’t flinch away from it. I meet his gaze and hold it, letting him see the raw pain, the anger, and the flickering, stubborn flame of determination.

“It’s not over, but we definitely have to figure out if we’re both in this for what we want. Not what others want. Us,” I stress. “No one else.”

I turn, my knee screaming with every step, and walk towards the door. I don’t look back. I don’t know where I’m going, what tomorrow will bring, or how I’ll possibly salvage the mess my life has become.

But it’s my turn to make the next move.