“No.”
Dieter lifted his brows. “Which leaves you exactly where, Stefan?”
I didn’t answer immediately, because the answer wasn’t comfortable, not easily reframed into something more manageable.
“Undecided,” I declared.
Dieter studied me for a moment, then shook his head. “No,” he said, his voice low. “You’re not undecided.”
I blinked. “Then what am I? Tell me that.”
He didn’t hesitate. “You’re already in it. You’re just trying to control the point at which you admit it.”
The noise of the café continued around us, unchanged, indifferent, but the space between us narrowed. There was no ambiguity in what he’d just said, no room to reinterpret it or reduce it into something safer.
I felt the truth settle on me with a quiet, undeniable weight.
Dieter watched me for a moment longer, then reached for his drink. “You can take your time deciding what to do about it,” he said with a shrug. “After all, that’s your usual method.” He paused for a heartbeat. “But don’t confuse that with not already having made the decision.”
I didn’t respond, because I couldn’t, not without confirming exactly what he’d said.
Dieter took a sip of beer, then added, almost as an afterthought, “He matters. You said that much yourself. And you don’t do that lightly.”
No, I didn’t.
Then he set his glass down and looked at me again, this time without any trace of humour. “So whatever you think you’re protecting, it’s not yourself.”
His statement stripped away the last of my justifications.
I looked at the phone again. Still there, still within reach. For the first time since I’d made the decision not to call, I understood exactly what that decision was costing.
Dieter followed my gaze, then stood. “I’m going to leave you to it. You’re clearly very busy doing nothing.”
I gave an eyeroll.
He paused, one hand resting against the back of the chair Rolf had occupied. “And Stefan?”
I looked into his eyes.
“When you finally decide to act,” he said, “try not to be surprised if he’s already made his own decision.” He held my gaze for a moment longer, then strolled out of the café.
Nothing about the moment felt neutral anymore.
I looked at the phone. The question wasn’t whether I would call him.
Only when.
That was not the reassurance it should have been. Because Dieter was right. Kieran would not remain suspended in the space I had left him. He would return to his life, make decisions, and move forward, as he should.
As I had insisted he do.
Then it dawned on me. With Erik, I’d known. With Cole, and with those who’d preceded him, I’d understood. In both cases, the outcome had been clear before it had taken shape.
This? This was not.
There was no certainty here, only the growing awareness of what it might become?—
And what it would require if I chose not to step away from it.