Text Elena back

I stare at the screen, Elena's words blurring slightly as my thumb hovers over the keyboard. Relief mixes with the ache in my chest, a fragile bridge forming over the chasm I dug earlier. Sarah's hand lingers on mine, her thumb brushing my knuckle in silent support. She doesn't press, just waits, her presence a steady anchor.

"It's her," I say quietly, meeting her eyes. Sarah nods, a soft understanding in her gaze, and releases my hand to give me space. I type slowly, each word deliberate, stripped of the app's illusions.

Hey. Your message means a lot. It's fair to feel that way, and I'm sorry I made you doubt it. You are special to me, Elena. More than anyone. I thought I fucked up everything we started, the connection that felt real from the beginning. If you'll still have me, I'd love to grab coffee tomorrow.

I hit send, the whoosh pulling a long breath from my lungs. The room settles around us again, the sitcom's murmur fading into background noise. Sarah shifts closer on the couch, her arm slipping around my waist, not possessive but reassuring.

"Sounds like she'll come around," she says, her voice light yet sincere. "That kind of hurt doesn't kill what was building. You see her for who she is, not what you can command."

Her insight lands gently, easing the guilt that had knotted tighter with every passing hour. Tomorrow looms with possibility, untainted by weaves or proxies. No work shadows the day, just the chance to rebuild something organic, away from the app's pull. Elena's reply pings almost immediately, a simple thumbs-up emoji followed by "10am at Brew Haven? Can't wait."

A smile tugs at my lips, genuine and unforced. Sarah nestles against me, content in the quiet victory of the moment. For tonight, this is enough, the path ahead clearer than it has been.