When he said my name like that, calling me in a low, almost hesitant voice, I knew.
It wasn't the first time Theo had called me that. But that time... there was something different.
A density in his voice. A heaviness that didn't match the warmth of the coffee, the tranquillity of the morning, our banter. It was like a sigh that didn't want to come out. Like someone who opens a door and doesn't know what they're going to find on the other side.
I rested my chin on my hands and kept smiling, even though something inside me, something ancient, instinctive, began to shrink. I wanted him to know that he could talk. That I was there.
Even though a part of me was already on alert, feeling the ground begin to crumble beneath my feet like the crumbs of cheese bread on the table.
"There's something I need to tell you..."
Those words. Those damn words.
You always feel it, don't you? Before you even know.
It's like a change in the air, a subtle vibration that only the heart understands. My body reacted before my mind. A slight chill on my forearm, a tingle at the base of my neck.
And yet I smiled. Because smiling and persevering had always been my armor since my mother and brother had left my side.
"Hey... What's with the face? Are you going to tell me you burnt your tongue?"
It was Nayun leve who spoke, the one who lives on the surface, who makes jokes even when everything inside is shaking. But Theo didn't laugh. Not even the corner of his lip. He just looked at me, seriously.
He looked at me in a way that took me apart and rebuilt me at the same time. As if he saw parts of me that even I didn't visit very often.
My heart gave a little leap. Not the kind you feel when you fall in love.
It was a different kind of feeling.
That cold feeling that creeps up your back when your intuition whispers: 'something's wrong.'
He lowered his eyes for a second, stared at his fingers, ran his hand over the back of his neck as he does when he's nervous, a gesture I've learned to love, even without telling him. And then he looked at me again.
For a moment, he looked more fragile than I've ever seen him in all the time we've been dating. A man torn apart. A man who loves, but somehow feels he's doing something wrong.
He began, and stopped. I could see him swallow dry.
My heart was now hammering in my chest, steady, constant, as if to warn me: 'Get ready.'
That's when it hit me.
Not all of it, but the pieces began to move.
He became like that after I jokingly called him a womanizer.
Too many conversations.
The Nayun that lives in me, the intuitive one, has started to piece together the clues. She lives quietly, but vigilantly.
The same Nayun who learned early on that pain was easier to live with than she had imagined.
But there was also the other Nayun. The one who believes. The one who knows that Theo isn't like the others. That he really listens to me, respects me, sees me. This Nayun struggled not to let herself be contaminated by the other's anxiety. She wanted to understand. She wanted to listen.
It wasn't about betrayal. Of that I was certain.
Theo was many things, but he wasn't unfaithful, that was something I knew better than anyone, it might sound strange, but that's how I felt.
But he was also too attentive. Too affectionate. The kind of man who, even without realizing it, could give too much space to too many people... and maybe feelings too.
I pressed my fingers together under the table. An almost childish gesture, as if that could contain the whirlwind inside me. But I kept my gaze on him. I wasn't going to look away. Not this time.
I muttered as I stared at him.
My voice sounded firm, even to myself. And strangely... it gave me strength.
He hesitated. For a moment, the world fell silent, as if even the clock on the wall had stopped.
And it was in that instant that I realized.
I was afraid. Afraid of what was to come, afraid of hearing out loud what I already suspected.
But more than fear, there was a hint of anger. Not at him, but at the situation. At the fact that moments as beautiful as that breakfast couldn't last, that there would always be something to test our happiness.
I took a deep breath, smelling the tea already warm. I looked at him one more time.
'If it's going to hurt, let it be now. But at least let it be real.'
Theo finally raised his eyes to meet mine. His expression was a mixture of guilt and determination.
"Nayun, I... I've been thinking a lot about us. About how we feel about each other. And also about other people."
My stomach churned, but I remained silent, allowing him to continue.
"I love you, Nayun. I really do. You mean the world to me. But... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to other women."
The words hung in the air like heavy rocks. I felt a mixture of emotions come over me: pain, anguish, insecurity and confusion...
"I've been thinking about this since we started dating, a way to tell you how I feel without making you suffer. But I realize that something like that is impossible..."
Tears threatened to flow, but I held them back.
Taking a deep breath, seeking clarity in the midst of the whirlwind of feelings that was ravaging me, I let my hands rest on the table.
"I know what this means for us, I know that our relationship could break down from now on. But I needed you to know what's going on inside me. Because I love you too much to hide it any longer..."
For a few seconds, everything seemed frozen. The dust particles floating in the light from the window seemed to dance in slow motion. Even the sound coming from outside seemed to have drifted away, swallowed up by the weight of the confession. I was looking at him, but I seemed to be looking through the gestures, the words, trying to see what lay behind that raw honesty.
My trembling fingers traced invisible circles on the table. The warmth of the lukewarm tea came through my palms, but it wasn't enough to warm me up. My chest ached, a dense, muffled pain, as if every heartbeat pushed against something that didn't want to give way.
Theo, on the other side of the table, looked anxious. His shoulders, once so firm, were bowed.
He interlaced his fingers, then undid them, again and again, as if trying to find some kind of order in the mess he had just exposed. His eyes sought mine, but they wavered, like someone who fears seeing the reflection of their own guilt in the eyes of someone they love.
Finally, I raised my hand in a calm gesture and lightly touched the cup in front of me, more to have something to support my instability than out of a desire to drink.
"Y-you know how much this hurts me, don't you?"
My voice came out low, a whisper interspersed with the emotion that threatened to swallow me whole.