Issa didn't mean to find out the way she did.
It was a quiet afternoon, the kind that felt suspended in between plans. Max had stepped out to run an errand, leaving his laptop open on the kitchen table. Issa wasn't snooping—she hated the idea of that. She only meant to close it when a notification flashed across the screen.
From: Emily R.
I didn't know if you still thought about it. About us.
Issa froze.
Her first instinct was denial. Old names didn't always mean old feelings. People reached out for reasons that had nothing to do with love.
But something in her chest tightened anyway.
The screen lit up again.
I never told Issa, like you asked. I kept my promise.
The words felt like a crack running straight through her.
---
When Max came home, Issa was sitting on the couch, hands folded in her lap, heart pounding too loudly in her ears.
"You're back early," he said, smiling—until he saw her face.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She stood slowly. "You tell me."
Confusion crossed his face. Then fear.
"Issa—"
"How long were you in contact with Emily after we reconnected?" she asked, voice steady despite the storm inside her.
Max went still.
"I—" He ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't think it mattered anymore."
Her breath caught. "So you decided I didn't deserve the truth?"
"That's not what I meant," he said quickly. "She reached out months ago. It was about closure. About the past."
"And you didn't tell me," Issa said. "You let me believe I was standing on solid ground."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and sharp.
"There's more, isn't there?" she asked quietly.
Max closed his eyes.
"I almost didn't come back into your life," he admitted. "Because part of me was scared I was still capable of hurting you. I was afraid that if you knew how messy I was—how much guilt I carried—you wouldn't let me stay."
Issa felt tears sting her eyes—not from jealousy, but betrayal.
"I gave you honesty," she said. "I built this on truth. And you decided for me what I could handle."
"That was wrong," Max said, voice breaking. "I know that now."
---
Issa left that night.
Not dramatically. Not angrily.
She packed a small bag and stayed with a friend, the world feeling unfamiliar again, like she'd stepped backward into an old version of herself she never wanted to revisit.
She didn't write letters this time.
She sat with the pain.
And that was worse.
---
Days passed.
Max didn't flood her phone with apologies. He sent one message.
I'm here when you're ready. I will tell you everything. No more silence.
She didn't reply.
Not yet.
---
When they finally met again, it was in the park where they'd once decided to begin again.
Max looked exhausted. Honest in a way she hadn't seen before.
"I didn't cheat," he said immediately. "I didn't want her back. But I did hide the truth because I was afraid."
Issa nodded. "I believe you."
That surprised him.
"But belief isn't the same as trust," she continued. "And trust doesn't come back just because you say sorry."
"I know," he said. "I'm willing to earn it. Even if it takes years. Even if you decide you don't want me."
Her chest ached at the sincerity in his voice.
"I spent so long loving quietly," Issa said. "I promised myself I wouldn't stay where I had to doubt my place."
"You don't have to," Max said. "Choose yourself. I'll still take responsibility for what I broke."
That was the moment something shifted.
Not because he fought to keep her.
But because he respected her choice.
---
They didn't reunite that day.
They walked apart, slowly, painfully.
But this time, the distance wasn't built on silence.
It was built on truth.
And that made all the difference.