After a long pause, he said, “I’m going to say something uncomfortable.”

“You seem different tonight,” he said. “And part of me wants to pretend everything’s fine so you don’t leave. But the honest part says: I feel a little shut out, and I don’t know why. And maybe it’s not about me. But I wanted to say it instead of pretending.”

Then, one Tuesday, she canceled a date last minute. “Work stuff,” she texted.

She replied: “Wow. No one ever just says they’re disappointed without making it a guilt trip. Thank you. Thursday?”

But knowing and doing are different planets.

He didn’t argue. He just said, “Then I’m not your guy.”

Leo felt his chest crack. Honesty, he reminded himself. Even when it hurts.

Thursday came. She was distant. Quiet. Leo felt the urge to perform—to fill the silence with stories, to make her laugh, to earn her attention.