UNCOMPLETE LOVE

Lena walked home from the café with a strange sense of lightness. The conversation with Jason had gone differently than she had expected—not dramatic, not tearful, but… necessary. For so long, she had carried the weight of their failed relationship, convinced that she had been the one who wasn't enough. But now, she saw it clearly.

It had never been about her shortcomings. It had been about Jason's inability to love her the way she deserved.

And Ethan?

Ethan was different.

But different didn't mean perfect.

As she stepped into her apartment, she leaned against the door and exhaled.

She had chosen to move forward with Ethan.

Now, she had to figure out how.

---

The Late-Night Call

Lena was in the middle of making tea when her phone buzzed.

Ethan.

She answered on the second ring. "Hey."

"Hey," his voice was soft, but there was something in his tone—an uneasiness.

Lena frowned. "Are you okay?"

There was a pause. "I just… I've been thinking about you all night. About Jason."

Lena tensed. "Ethan—"

"I trust you," he said quickly. "I do. But that doesn't mean I don't have fears."

She softened, leaning against the counter. "I get that."

"I keep wondering," Ethan admitted, "if this thing between us… if we're just trying to force something that's already broken."

Lena's stomach twisted. "Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know." He let out a shaky breath. "I just don't want to wake up one day and realize we're back where we started—hurting each other."

Lena closed her eyes. "Neither do I."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words.

Then Ethan spoke again. "Can I see you?"

She hesitated. It was late, and part of her wanted to sit with her thoughts a little longer. But another part—the part that had fought so hard to keep him in her life—needed to see him.

"Yes," she whispered.

---

A Night of Truths

Ethan showed up at her apartment thirty minutes later, his hair slightly disheveled as though he had been running his hands through it.

Lena opened the door, and for a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other.

Then Ethan sighed, stepping inside. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't."

"Lena," he said, his voice laced with frustration. "You say that, but I see the way you hesitate. The way you look at me like you're still deciding if I'm worth the risk."

Lena swallowed hard. "Because I am."

Ethan flinched, but he didn't look away. "Then tell me the truth. Right now. Are you really willing to give us a chance? Or are you just afraid of letting go?"

Her chest tightened. "I don't know."

It was the most honest answer she could give.

Ethan exhaled, running a hand down his face. "I can handle your fear, Lena. I can handle your hesitation. But I can't handle you being here out of guilt or obligation."

Lena stepped forward, reaching for his hand. "I'm here because I want to be."

His fingers curled around hers, but his eyes searched hers with uncertainty. "Then stop looking at me like you're waiting for me to break you again."

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Because wasn't that exactly what she was doing?

Ethan was trying—harder than he ever had before. And yet, she kept one foot out the door, afraid that if she fully stepped in, she'd be setting herself up for heartbreak.

She had to make a choice.

Fully love him.

Or let him go.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes. "I don't want to lose you," she admitted. "But I don't know how to stop being afraid."

Ethan's grip on her hand tightened. "Then let me show you how."

---

The First Real Step

They didn't make love that night.

Instead, they lay in bed, facing each other, whispering the things they had been too scared to say before.

Ethan told her about his own fears—about how he was terrified of failing her again.

Lena told him about hers—about how she was afraid that no matter how much they tried, love alone wouldn't be enough.

And somewhere between the honesty and the vulnerability, something shifted.

For the first time, they weren't just trying to fix what had been broken.

They were building something new.