Chapter 22 | Jade

Jade’s message arrived in the evening.

“What are you doing tonight?”

I stayed for a few seconds looking at the screen.

For several weeks, I had been avoiding almost everyone. Jade too, partly. Well, I was avoiding her the way you avoid people who keep talking to you when you’ve decided to become furniture.

I finally answered:

“Nothing”

The three dots appeared immediately.

“Perfect”

One second later:

“Come have dinner”

Pause.

“I need to talk. Just you and me”

I stared at the screen.

My brain told me it was probably a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

But my body was tired of always running away.

So I simply answered:

“Okay”

Her apartment was on the fourth floor of an old building, not far from the office.

When she opened the door, she was wearing a loose T-shirt and black pants, her hair tied up quickly. She looked simpler than usual.

She gave a small smile.

“You came.”

“I told you I would.”

“I had doubts.”

I lifted my shoulders slightly.

“So did I.”

She laughed softly.

“Come in.”

The apartment was warmer than I would have imagined. A small table near the window. An open kitchen. Yellow lights that made the place almost comfortable. Not luxurious. Not perfectly tidy. Just alive. Truly lived in.

“I ordered,” she said. “I couldn’t be bothered to cook.”

“That works for me.”

We sat at the table.

At first, the conversation stayed surprisingly simple.

The office.

University.

Mehdi, who always told the same jokes with the energy of a man who still believed he was inventing them.

Clara and her coffee that was far too strong.

One of Jade’s clients who had said “quick point” before talking for forty-two minutes.

Jade seemed relaxed.

Softer than usual.

At one point, she looked at me a little longer.

“You’ve changed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re more silent.”

I smiled weakly.

“I already don’t talk much.”

“This is different.”

She crossed her arms on the table.

“Before, you were calm. Now it feels like you’re absent.”

I lowered my eyes to my plate.

“Maybe.”

She sighed.

“I don’t like it.”

I lifted my head slightly.

“Why?”

She lifted one shoulder.

“Because I preferred when you looked at me as if I were someone good.”

The sentence caught me off guard.

“You are.”

She gave a small laugh.

“You see? That’s exactly it.”

“What?”

“You always have a kind answer ready before you’ve even thought about what you actually think.”

I didn’t answer.

Because I could already feel that the evening was not going to stay quiet for very long.

Silence fell again for a while.

Then Jade stood up to clear the plates. I heard her run some water in the sink, open a cupboard, close a drawer. Simple gestures. Normal ones. The kind of gestures that almost make you want to believe you’re in a simple scene.

When she came back, she didn’t sit across from me again.

She took the chair beside me.

Very close.

I immediately felt the tension change.

Her knee brushed mine.

“Eliott.”

Her voice was lower now.

“Yes?”

She looked at me for a long time.

“Do you know why I invited you?”

“To talk.”

She shook her head.

“Not only.”

She placed a hand on my arm.

“I needed to see how long you were going to keep going like this.”

I frowned slightly.

“Like what?”

“Like a little ghost that’s too polite.”

I let out a breath.

“That’s a bit violent.”

“Yes.”

She wasn’t really smiling anymore.

“Because apparently, gently doesn’t work.”

I turned my head slightly toward her.

“What doesn’t work?”

“You.”

Small silence.

“Well, no. Not you.”

She corrected herself almost immediately, but without softening her voice.

“The way you let things crush you and call it thinking.”

I straightened slightly.

“Jade…”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“Tonight, you’re going to listen to me.”

Her hand slowly slid to my neck.

The gesture was the same as before.

Precise. Familiar. Almost reassuring.

And yet, something had changed in her gaze.

This time, it wasn’t a check. Or a game. Or a way to calm me down.

It was a test.

“Do you know what drives me crazy about you?” she asked.

I didn’t answer.

“You’re intelligent. Kind. Attentive.”

She gave a small joyless laugh.

“And yet you spend your life acting as if you should apologize for existing.”

I felt my jaw tighten.

“I don’t apologize.”

“Yes, you do.”

Her hand left my neck and came to rest on my chest.

“All the time.”

The contact made me jump.

She noticed immediately.

“You see?” she murmured. “Always that.”

“What?”

“That hesitation. That restraint. That way you have of asking permission to be there.”

I took a breath.

“You’re dramatizing.”

“No.”

She moved a little closer.

“I’m simplifying.”

“Jade…”

“What?”

I finally looked at her.

Her eyes were hard now. Not cruel. Not really. Sharper. Deliberately sharp.

“Why are you doing this?”

She stared at me for one second.

Then lifted one shoulder slightly.

“Because otherwise you’re going to keep watching yourself die in silence as if it were a quality.”

The silence became heavier.

I could have left then.

Stood up. Said it was pointless. Gone home with my fatigue and my wounded pride.

But I stayed.

Because part of me had understood that something was preparing itself.

Her hand slid a little lower over my chest.

Not brutally.

But with an almost provocative confidence.

“Look at yourself.”

Her voice was low, very close to my face.

“Always stuck between what you want… and what you think you’re supposed to be.”

I closed my eyes for one second.

“Jade, stop.”

She gave a small laugh.

“Stop?”

Her hand stopped.

Then she moved back slightly to look at me.

“Why?”

I finally looked at her.

“Because it leads nowhere.”

She tilted her head.

“Yes, it does.”

“Where?”

“To the truth.”

I frowned slightly.

“What truth?”

She shrugged.

Then dropped the sentence calmly, almost without effect:

“That you’re just a little puppy incapable of expressing yourself.”

The world seemed to freeze for one second.

My brain took a moment to understand the words.

Then the sentence settled in.

Heavy.

Brutal.

Perfectly unbearable.

I stood so abruptly that the chair scraped violently against the floor.

“What?”

My voice had changed.

Louder.

Harder.

Jade stayed seated.

And I saw something almost satisfied pass through her gaze.

Not because she had hurt me.

Because, for the first time in a long while, I was finally there.

“Oh. You’re finally waking up.”

I could feel my heart beating in my temples.

“You’re really comparing me to that?”

She lifted one shoulder.

“You’re convenient. Kind. Always available. Always ready to understand others before yourself.”

She lifted her eyes to me.

“People like you are easy to use.”

Something exploded in my chest.

“I’m worth more than that!”

The shout came out louder than expected.

The walls of the apartment seemed to vibrate for one second.

Jade stood slowly.

Her expression changed immediately.

No more game. No more mask.

“Obviously you are.”

She stared at me.

“But do you really believe you’re worth more than that?”

I was breathing too fast.

“Yes!”

She shook her head.

“No.”

Small pause.

“You may feel it sometimes. You hope it. But you don’t believe it.”

I stayed frozen.

Because part of me knew exactly that she had just hit the right place.

“Do you know what you do, Eliott?” she continued.

Her voice was no longer aggressive. Just firm. Very firm.

“You let people choose for you. You let them define you, move you, reject you, interpret you. And then afterward you suffer in silence as if it were noble.”

I clenched my fists.

“You think I do it on purpose?”

“No. I think you adore yourself in the role of the guy who gets hurt without saying anything.”

I looked at her as if she had just slapped me.

“That’s false.”

“Oh really?”

She took one step toward me.

“Then why do you never say things when they matter?”

“I…”

“Why do you prefer withdrawing rather than asking?”

“Because…”

“Why did you dump Lyralda like a vexed child instead of talking to her honestly?”

This time, the sentence hit me like a blow to the stomach.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I do.”

She looked at me with almost painful clarity.

“I know exactly what I’m talking about. I know you.”

The silence between us had become enormous.

I stared at her.

Then the words finally came out.

Not clean. Not calm. But true.

“I’m tired of it.”

The silence tightened again.

“I’m tired of always having to understand others before myself.”

My throat was tightening, but I continued.

“I’m tired of always being the one people leave, the one people can lose, the one who has to stay reasonable, calm, kind, decent.”

My voice trembled slightly.

“I’m tired of feeling replaceable everywhere.”

Jade didn’t move.

She let me speak.

“And I’m tired…”

I took another breath.

“I’m tired of acting as if it doesn’t do anything to me…”

The last sentence fell lower than the others.

But it stayed.

And for one second, the silence that followed was almost more violent than the argument.

Jade was looking at me.

Not hard anymore.

Just attentive.

“There,” she murmured, before taking me in her arms.

I was still breathing too fast.

“There what?”

“There.”

She looked at me.

“Now you exist.”

I stayed still.

All the anger dropped at once, replaced by something heavier. More empty. That kind of fatigue that comes after you have finally said the truth too loudly.

“Do you hate me?” she asked softly.

I let out a small laugh.

“I don’t know.”

She nodded.

“That’s already better than ‘I’m fine.’”

I passed a hand over my face.

I suddenly wanted to disappear again. Not because she had won. Because she was right about too many things at once.

Jade took one step back.

Then pointed to the door.

“Get out.”

I looked up at her.

“What?”

“Get out.”

Her voice wasn’t cruel.

Almost soft now.

“Go do something with what you just said.”

I stayed there one second longer.

Then I took my jacket.

I walked to the door.

My hand was trembling slightly when I opened it.

As I stepped out, I heard her say behind me:

“Eliott.”

I half turned around.

“Get home safe.”

I didn’t answer.

The building corridor was silent.

I went down the stairs without really feeling my legs.

The street air hit my face when I stepped outside.

I walked.

No direction.

No thinking.

The anger was already falling away.

Replaced by something much heavier.

An immense fatigue.

I finally stopped at the street corner.

Hands in my pockets.

And for the first time in a long while…

I did not feel only empty.

I felt reached.

As if something had finally pierced the thick layer of fatigue, shame, and silence I had put between myself and the rest.

It hurt.

It really hurt.

But at least that pain had a shape.

I could no longer keep living like someone waiting for others to explain his own life to him.