Hannah. (Van Den Bosch #7)

Chapter 7

7

Johan

I don’t have much of an appetite, but I make myself a cup of black tea and some toast anyway, out of habit more than anything. Yet as I sit down to try and nourish myself, it’s not the food that occupies my mind; it's Hannah. Her silence, the deliberate way she’s ignoring me…hell, I don’t even know what to do about it.

I panicked when Astrid introduced us, and I don’t know why in the hell I pretended not to know her, but I’m grateful for the split-second decision. That doesn’t explain why she didn’t answer my last text.

Tea mug in hand, I start pacing the room, replaying our interactions. Nothing stands out. Yes, I ignored her text messages from when she arrived at Cambridge, but I needed time to reconcile what I felt for Astrid before interacting with Hannah again, and I even apologized to her for that. My exhibition forced me into swift contact with Hannah, but I made sure to approach her in private so she knew I wasn’t going to ignore her anymore. Yet, the way she brushed me off gnaws at me. Hannah, the girl who came all the way from the Netherlands to be with me for a Horse Show, is now the one ignoring me. I guess I deserve the cold shoulder. But that doesn’t mean I will be content with it. As I mull over our recent encounter, a sharp knock punctuates the silence. The camera app on my phone flashes, and I open it, seeing a familiar figure waiting outside with his hands in his pockets. With a sigh, I go and open the door to…

“I know you missed me, but I’m back!” Conrad Harcourt says, loud and proud, as he enters my apartment without waiting for an invitation. No surprise there.

With his olive skin and a crown of dark, unruly hair, Conrad carries an air of effortless sophistication. He’s fit, while his eyes sparkle with an underlying humor. Despite his aristocratic roots, he possesses a charm that bridges the gap in any social situation. Everyone loves Conrad.

“Well, hello to you too,” I grumble, shutting the door behind him.

Conrad is at the stovetop, pouring the remaining hot water into a mug and thumbing through my collection of teas as if he were at home in my apartment. He doesn’t even look up at me as he speaks. “I’ve been tasked to drag your royal ass to Goschen Hall. No need to voice your disagreement; I won’t hear it.”

The annoyance in my voice is obvious when I ask, “So I don’t even get a say?”

Conrad looks at me now, smirking as he repeatedly dunks the tea bag in the water. “I was told you already knew about these plans but were putting them off until the last minute unless I didn’t retrieve you myself. Something about getting lost in your research or something.”

“Look, I appreciate?—”

“You have five minutes to get ready. My car is waiting outside.” Conrad flashes me an annoying smirk before taking another sip of his tea.

“Fine.” I finish the rest of my tea before depositing the empty cup in the sink. “Let me get changed, and then we can go.”

He’s not wrong, and that annoys me. It isn’t that I don’t want to spend time with Astrid; it’s that she has a different view of our relationship than I do. Going to her parents' estate and spending time there is just going to add fuel to the fire. The more I participate in boyfriend activities, the more she’s going to think we’re more serious than we really are.

Astrid has plenty of reason to think that way, to be fair. We’ve gotten quite close over the past two years, traveled together, and spent the entire summer in each other's company in a very…well, romantic way…all signs pointed to us going the distance.

But then Hannah van den Bosch appeared, and I’m fascinated by her all over again.

I glance at Conrad's effortless country attire before heading to my room. I decide to opt for something relaxed yet appropriate for the brunch at Astrid's estate, leaving the door a bit open so we can still talk.

I settle on a light blue button-down shirt, jeans, and comfortable boots. Looking out the window and seeing the sun, I grab a lightweight blazer jacket in a darker blue, just in case.

“I suppose there’s no way for me to get out of this,” I mumble, buttoning my shirt.

Conrad is outside in the hallway—I can hear his spoon clinking against his mug. “Why the hell would you want to do that? The sun is out and there’s a beautiful girl waiting for you with her wealthy, perfect match of a family. Sounds great to me.”

His comments make me feel uneasy, mostly because I’m unsure why I feel the way I do. It’s almost like my instincts keep me from committing myself to Astrid. “It just feels like it's moving at this breakneck speed, this thing between me and Astrid. I wish I had more time to figure out what I want.”

“What are you even on about, mate? You guys have been hanging around for so long, and you basically told me you had the best summer of your life with her. Seems like it's worth giving her a shot,” Conrad replies, his words hitting home.

“I did…but it never felt like forever material, you know? I never woke up, looked down at her, and thought she was the one.”

“Johan, come on.” Conrad leans against the doorframe, his eyes gleaming with amusement as I get dressed. “You’re overthinking this.” His tone is light despite the heaviness of the subject. “Just go with the flow. Astrid seems great, and you seemed pretty smitten.”

I sigh, scratching at my scalp. “I don't know, man. It’s just...things are moving so fast. I’m not used to it.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You spent a fantastic summer with a girl in a wide variety of paradises, and now you’re complaining because things are heating up? Don’t let your hesitation ruin something good. Just relax and enjoy it. Again, give her a chance!”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should let go of my apprehensions and give this relationship a chance. Hannah’s face is hovering in my mind's eye, but it’s not like I can tell him about her. It must seem insane to him; after all, Astrid should be a perfect match. She’s beautiful, comes from a noble family, and we share so many common interests. She’s as smart as she is attractive and into me. But dammit…she isn’t Hannah.

My fingers fumble with the last buttons of my shirt, irritation etched across my face. “Yeah, I am, but I’m more comfortable giving her a chance in the dating sense, not in playing the exclusive, devoted boyfriend,” I mumble, frustration lacing my words. I feel like I’m dressing for a role I’m uncomfortable with.

Conrad snorts. I can’t see him from here, but I can tell that he’s laughing at me to himself. “Dude, relationships aren't black and white. You need to figure out what you want and talk to her. Simple as that.” His tone’s firm, urging me to face the truth.

While our conversation dances around the topic of commitment, my eyes keep stealing glances at my reflection in the mirror. I can read the doubt on my face, wondering if I’m making the right choice by attending Astrid's family gathering. This shirt feels constricting, mirroring my apprehension.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips. “All her friends and family will be there…how am I supposed to break her heart in front of everyone she knows?”

“You won’t break her heart if you’re honest with her. Just have a heartfelt conversation. I will be there for you,” Conrad tries to reassure me. “We’ve been through breakups before. And this doesn’t even have to be a breakup!”

I exit the room, giving Conrad a nod to acknowledge that I’ve heard his advice. God, I so want to stay here on campus and continue my research. The dread of the impending conversation with Astrid is sinking in.

“You ready?” Conrad asks, shaking his car keys in my direction.

“No. But yes. Let’s go.”

We arrive at Goschen Hall and are led to the terrace by the family butler. I feel warm despite the brisk temperature, and I’m not even sure why. I’ve made up my mind to talk to Astrid today, letting her know I’m not ready to be her boyfriend, but it's not like I can’t just back out and save it for later if I want to. All the pressure bearing down on me right now is my own doing.

Conrad is eager to join the get-together, though, and doesn’t slow down for me at all. We end up exiting the terrace doors together and are hardly noticed at first by the gathering. Laughter and the clinking of cutlery fill the air as Astrid's family enjoys brunch al fresco. As soon as Nina catches sight of us, she stands and bustles over, hugging me first and then Conrad.

“Welcome, boys!” she chirps, patting us each on the cheek before taking Conrad by the hand and pulling him towards the table. I follow behind like a baby duck.

Everyone is scattered around the brunch table, some sitting, some standing, not having settled into the meal just yet. Mimosas and bloody Marys seem to be the drink du jour, and I partake in a mimosa myself when one of the staff passes by.

As we reach the group, Astrid looks over, and when she sees me, her eyes light up. It makes my stomach sink. I don’t think anything can feel worse than the guilt I’m experiencing right now, but I’m wrong…because there she is—Hannah herself, in the flesh.

She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I pull my eyes away from Astrid to drink Hannah in. God, she’s gorgeous, and I’m in hell. She's dressed in a light blue dress that hugs her figure in all the right places, the color emphasizing the hazel of her eyes. Her hair, a dark waterfall, frames her face. Even in the casual brunch setting, she exudes this effortless elegance.

Time feels like it slows down as our eyes meet. Surprise flickers across her eyes, mirroring my astonishment. Astrid, ever perceptive, gives me a quick hug and a kiss, introducing us. “Johan, remember Hannah? She was at your exposition last Saturday.”

“I do, yes. Hannah, how are you doing?" I manage to sound composed, though inside, I’m anything but. Damn. I should have expected her to be here. How has this caught me by surprise?

Encountering Hannah again is like stumbling upon a long-lost chapter of my life. It felt like this when I saw her the other day, but the effect is even more intense here in broad daylight. Memories of our past interactions flood back—late-night conversations, shared smiles, Hannah laughing under the sun just like this at the horse show, and moments that hinted at something more. Her grandmother’s office and a teen on the cusp of womanhood that I had no business being alone with. The intensity of my past feelings for her collides with the fact that Astrid is right fucking here.

I really, really am in hell.

As we exchange pleasantries, my eyes involuntarily linger on Hannah. I catch the subtle shifts in her expressions, the surprise mirrored in her gaze. We engage in polite conversation, but there’s an unspoken tension underneath. The pre-brunch drink hour continues around us, but in that moment, it feels like Hannah and I are suspended in time, caught in the delicate balance between the past and the present.

“Ahem,” Conrad, ever the instigator, clears his throat, prodding Astrid into action.

“Oh, how silly of me. Hannah, meet Conrad,” Astrid motions towards him. He’s casually propped against the terrace railing, looking utterly relaxed, but his eyes tell a different story–sharp, observant, sizing up the situation. “His family happens to be one of the top donors at St. Catharine's College. Conrad, this is Hannah, a fresher diving into the wonders of the Art History program.” Astrid grins at Conrad, planting her hands on her hips. “And, just so you know, she’s an enthusiast of my odd curiosities exposition. She loved it and didn’t find it weird at all.”

Conrad's lips curl into a playful smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah, someone intrigued by freaky little oddities? No wonder you two hit it off.”

His tone, though light, carries a subtle edge of curiosity. I study Conrad, and his nonchalant confidence makes me feel on edge. Which makes no sense. This is my friend , someone I just trusted to give me relationship advice. What is going on with me?

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Conrad,” Hannah tells him, amused. She holds out her hand to him, and of course, he doesn’t shake it. Instead, Conrad takes her hand gingerly and kisses the back of it, bowing over her hand like the perfect gentleman.

Oh, I hate that. But there isn’t any way I can complain.

Hannah, ever composed, responds with a demure smile. That annoys me, too. What she’s showing the world right now is who she thinks she’s supposed to be–Hannah van den Bosch, classy, well put together, and socially smooth. There’s little hint of who she really is–her humor, her wit, and everything else that is so unique about her.

“Now that we’re done with introductions,” Nina says, “how about we all sit and get some food?”

Astrid leads the way, gracefully choosing a spot at the long, sun-kissed table. As is expected of me, I sit next to her, and watch like a hawk to see who Hannah sits with. I restrain a groan when I see Conrad pull out a chair for her before settling down into his own. The staff, dressed in crisp uniforms, swoop in, serving brunch with practiced finesse. Plates clink softly against the table, platters of charcuterie, eggs, and pastries going down.

I’ve been part of meals like this hundreds of times. Astrid next to me is warm and welcoming, and I feel her hand landing on my knee and upper leg as the brunch goes on, showing me casual affection that I would usually love. Today, though, it seems out of place. There is too much going on inside my head to want to flirt with her. Not with Conrad doing his damned best to flirt with Hannah right across from us.

I find myself stealing glances at Hannah, her poise impressive, considering the unexpected circumstances. She sits with composed elegance, her eyes flitting from person to person, absorbing the atmosphere.

Conrad wastes no time trying to charm her. “So, where are you from, Hannah?” he inquires, his tone playful. “Your accent sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”

Hannah, with her soft Dutch accent, smiles warmly. “I’m from the Netherlands.” Her eyes glance briefly at me.

Conrad leans closer to her, bracing his elbow on the table and holding his chin in his hand, their bodies just inches apart. “And how are you finding England? Enjoying your studies here?”

Her eyes light up with enthusiasm. “I’m loving it,” she says, her smile infectious. “Everyone's been so friendly and polite. It’s quite different from back home.”

“Oh, it's your first time here, then?” Conrad's eyes gleam with curiosity. He puts on a good show; I have to give him that.

Hannah hesitates for a moment, her gaze flickering toward me again before replying, “Not exactly. I visited once before, two years ago. A short stay.”

My heart feels like it has fallen to my feet. Two years ago, she was here in England with me. Just a moment of eye contact, and there is so much unspoken between us that it might just suffocate me.

Conrad fails to pick up on the undercurrents. He teases her, trying to get a laugh out of Hannah and fully get her attention on him again. “Ah, a brief encounter with England. I hope this time is proving to be more memorable.”

As they chat, I watch, my eyes never leaving her. I notice the way she smiles, the way she engages with Conrad, and how her body language is open and inviting. Conrad, caught up in her aura, reciprocates, and their easy banter is potentially the most frustrating thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Meanwhile, I sit beside Astrid, but my attention is far from our conversation. I feel a pang of jealousy, a tightening in my chest as I witness the growing connection between Hannah and Conrad. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but I see it—the way their eyes meet, the way they laugh together, the natural ease of their conversation. I’m replying to Astrid, listening just enough to keep track of the thread on what she’s talking about but keeping everything as surface-level as possible. I’m too distracted for anything more.

Astrid notices my distraction, too, her gaze shifting between me and Hannah, a flicker of concern in her eyes. I try to hide my emotions, but it's impossible to conceal the turmoil inside me completely. I clench my fists, my jaw tightening, but ultimately swallowing down everything. There’s nothing to be done. I need to get over it.

In the midst of it all, Hannah and Conrad continue their conversation, oblivious to the turmoil they're causing me. Because why should they care? It’s not like I have any hold on Hannah. Bit by bit, I let go of the stress and try to bring myself back into the moment.

As brunch ends, more friends are joining our lively group. Jackie, with her red hair and boundless energy, warmly greets Hannah. Eduard, tall and quick-witted, nods at our newcomer. I stand and shake their hands, welcoming them and quickly catching up. But Conrad remains seated, his gaze fixed on Hannah. Their conversation flows naturally, punctuated by shared smiles and bursts of laughter.

Well…at least they’re both occupied, even if it’s killing me to see. This is as good a chance as any to talk to Astrid; I just have to find some privacy for the two of us. My reaction to Hannah here confirms that I can’t be with Astrid the way she wants. At least not right now…and maybe not ever. I can’t just let her continue in ignorance, though. It’s time to be honest.

I try to make my way through the crowd, hoping for a moment alone with Astrid, but instead, she intercepts me with a sweet smile. She grabs my upper arm gently, and before I can ask her for a second alone, she’s taking control of the conversation.

“Johan, love,” she says, her tone soft but insistent, “We need to get ready for the croquet game.”

“Actually, I was hoping I could have a moment alone with?—”

She waves her hand dismissively. “We’ll catch up later, I promise.”

I manage a nod, masking my disappointment with a forced grin. Astrid walks away, already talking to the rest of the guests. Her bright voice blends with the lively ambiance, leaving me standing at a distance.

Croquet, then. I’ve never been less interested, but I’ve got to partake for appearance's sake.

The croquet game unfolds under the gentle sun, the click of mallets against balls creating a rhythmic soundtrack to our gathering. Astrid plays the perfect hostess, setting the rules with an air of authority. Meanwhile, Conrad, oozing charm, positions himself next to Hannah, explaining the game with animated gestures. His touch on her mallet, the way he leans in to share tips, feels like a punch to my gut, but I can't let it show.

Hannah, her determination etched on her face, absorbs Conrad's advice like it's gospel. Gripping the mallet as if her life depends on it, she navigates the wickets with a fierce focus, her eyes lit up with concentration. I observe, my annoyance growing, as Conrad hovers around her, his enthusiasm contagious, his laughter infectious.

Jackie and Eduard are fully immersed in the game, interjecting with banter and encouragement, unaware of any underlying issues. Hell, no one even knows there's an issue at all besides me! Even Hannah seems unbothered by my presence, leaving me the only person with any problem…and a secret one, at that.

Outwardly, we all seem to be enjoying the friendly competition, but beneath the surface, I’m pissed. Conrad expertly guides Hannah through the game, staying close to her side. She’s supposed to be a stranger to me, at least in the eyes of everyone here, so this should be fine, shouldn’t it? Yet, I feel some invisible claim on her, and because of it, I can’t stop the feeling of betrayal simmering in my stomach.

Hannah, blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil, throws me a fleeting smile and turns her attention back to the game. Conrad's eyes meet mine briefly, winking at me and nodding his head towards Hannah as if it indicates how he has her attention. If it were any other girl, I’d be happy for him, but Hannah…I clench my mallet, my muscles tight with frustration, my composure teetering on the edge.

I play along, laughing when necessary and engaging in the game, but inside, I’m seething with jealousy. I wish I could confront Conrad and tell him to back off, but I’m trapped by social norms and the fact that no one even knows that Hannah and I have known each other for years.

I watch as Conrad and Hannah exchange glances loaded with meaning, a connection that goes beyond the game. It’s a flirtatious dance, and I’m left on the sidelines, torn between the urge to intervene and the fear of revealing too much.

I force myself to concentrate on the game, my movements precise but strained. Every shared smile between the two of them intensifies my frustration. As the game drags on, I find myself yearning for it to end, desperate for an excuse to escape this emotional minefield. I’m unraveling, my patience wearing thin with every passing moment.

Between the muffled clicks and clacks of the mallets on the balls and the sound of birdsong from the forest in the distance, Conrad eventually makes his way next to me. Still in the dark about what is wrong with me, he lets out a low whistle of appreciation, his gaze fixed on Hannah across the grass.

“You didn’t tell me Astrid had such a cute new friend,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “She’s going to be trouble, that one. But it’s a good thing that I like trouble.”

I shoot him a glare, unable to match his humor. “Well, you tend to hit on anyone with a pulse, so I didn’t think much of it,” I quip back, sarcasm cutting through the air.

Conrad, seemingly unfazed by my retort, smirks. “What’s her last name again? I don’t think she mentioned it.”

My muscles tense, a surge of alarm coursing through me. If he discovers her last name, the connection to Elise van den Bosch won’t be far behind. The identity of my ex-crush will likely be the thing that reveals my secret connection to Hannah, and the longer I can keep it from happening, the better. I have to throw Conrad off the scent.

“Why do you even care?” I ask, trying to sound normal despite my growing unease.

“Just curious.” His tone is too casual for comfort.

I feign indifference, shrugging as I line up my next shot. “Can't remember,” I tell him, sounding deliberately vague, and hoping to divert his attention elsewhere.

Meanwhile, my eyes stray toward Hannah, her focused expression as she absorbs the intricacies of croquet. Each stolen moment between her and Conrad heightens my discomfort. It’s as if something precious is slipping away, out of my grasp. It’s her… she’s the precious thing. I watch Hannah as she throws her dark hair behind her and rolls her shoulders, releasing the tension from being bent over taking her shot.

Astrid's voice slices through the chatter, dragging Conrad away from me. That momentary freedom lets me step closer to Hannah, who stands a bit apart from the group. It’s an impulsive move; trying to talk to her among all these other people is risky, but fuck it. I want to talk to her, so I will.

Acting like I’m doing something with my mallet as I sidle up next to her, I lean slightly towards her so only she can hear me as I ask, “Are you planning to ignore me all weekend?”

“I'll ignore you for as long as I want,” she retorts, her tone firm.

“Is this because I didn’t text you back when you arrived in Cambridge?” Standing straight, I look at her now.

A tense pause fills the space between us. I can practically feel her thoughts churning, her silence telling me more than words ever could. The truth stings, but I can't deny it. Yes, that is at least one reason why she’s ignoring me. I’ve regretted not answering that text a hundred times since I received it, but what else can I do now?

Finally, she answers. “I did expect you to be more hospitable, but I guess hospitality isn’t owed.” She presses her lips tightly, looking up to the blue sky, where fat white clouds float by. Then, meeting my eyes for an instant, she proceeds. “Don’t worry. Other people picked up where you left off. Astrid has been wonderful. Even your friend Conrad has been great. So I guess it isn’t the worst thing in the world that you couldn’t be bothered to say anything back.”

I scowl, knowing that she’s hiding genuine hurt with sarcasm. But I’ll let her have her little vent session. We don’t have time to discuss my lack of contact with her and what it really means. But there is something I need to address, and her bringing up my friend gives me the perfect opportunity to do so.

“Speaking of Conrad, don’t give him your last name. He'll dig a rabbit hole trying to find out every little bit of information possible about you,” I caution, glancing in Conrad’s direction.

“Seriously?” she scoffs, her disbelief obvious. “Why should I trust you on that? I don’t know why, but I have a hard time believing it.”

“I’ve known him since my first year here,” I tell her, trying to infuse my words with sincerity. “If anyone knows him, it's me. I’m not trying to insult the guy; I know what he’s like.”

“Fresher year, huh?” She leans her weight on her mallet and taps her chin with a finger. “So that means you've probably shared some things about my sister, haven’t you?” Hannah’s eyes narrow with suspicion.

Hell. She’s on to me. My silence confirms her suspicions. She catches on, her eyes widening with understanding. “Ah, I see it now,” she says, her voice tinged with disappointment. “You’re afraid he might dig deep enough to find out Elise is my sister and that you knew me before Cambridge….”

There it is, the raw truth. I try to hide it, but anxiety sweeps through me at the idea of her revealing my secret. All she would have to do is tell Conrad her last name, and then everything would be a fucking mess. Damn!

Hannah’s mouth twists, seeming almost cruel, and I know she’s aware of the power she holds over me now. All I can do is hope she doesn’t use that against me.

“Can you please keep it to yourself?” I plead.

Astrid's cheerful shout interrupts our conversation, pulling her away from me. Hannah looks me up and down quickly and then shrugs one shoulder. “I'll see what I can do.” And retreats, leaving me with a sinking feeling in my chest as I watch her walk away.

The game continues, but my focus wavers between the croquet balls and the Dutch girl on the field. Every swing of her mallet seems purposeful, and each hit echoes with determination. I can't help but feel a pang of admiration. Our silent competition escalates into a battle of glares and unspoken challenges. Every victory on her end feels like a blow to my pride. Yet, when I manage to outplay her, I catch a glimmer of annoyance in her eyes, a sign that I’m not as inconsequential to her as she lets on.

I play my turns with renewed vigor, hoping to match her skill. The intensity between us crackles, creating an invisible barrier that only seems to grow stronger with each passing moment. I steal glances at her, trying to decipher the enigma that is Hannah. The more I observe, the more I realize there's more to her than meets the eye.

The game unfolds, and I find myself captivated by her determination to win, a trait that resonates with my own competitive spirit. In this moment, surrounded by laughter and sunlight, I’m drawn to her in a way I can't comprehend, leaving me both bewildered and strangely giddy.

Oh, this girl. I can’t be around her much longer. Not when she draws me in like a moth to a flame without even looking my way.

The croquet mallets rest against the stand as we all converge near the lemonade table beneath the welcoming shade of a massive oak tree. I’m parched, as is everyone else, and I gladly accept an ice-filled glass when it’s offered to me.

“Hey,” Astrid walks in, standing next to me and taking a casual sip of the cool lemonade. I smile in return but don’t say a word. We stand in silence for a moment until Astrid finally speaks up again. “Conrad seems quite smitten with Hannah. I haven’t seen him this into someone since his breakup with Valentina.”

I glance toward Conrad and Hannah, their conversation filled with animated gestures. “Yeah, good on him, I guess.”

Astrid turns her attention back to me, her eyes searching mine. “You seem tense today. Is everything okay?”

I take a moment to collect my thoughts, knowing that if I start this conversation with her, there’s no going back.

“Astrid, we need to talk about us.”

“Now?” Astrid's surprise is evident. Her brows furrow as she looks at me, attempting to read my expression.

“Yeah, now,” I reply, my voice steady. “But let’s step away for a moment to get some space.” With a subtle nod, I lead Astrid away from the group, finding a quiet corner in the garden where we can speak in private.

The rustling leaves and the distant talking form an odd contrast to the serious tone of our conversation. I take a deep breath, readying myself for what's to come. “Astrid,” I begin, my voice softer now. “I’ve been feeling…conflicted lately. About us.”

Astrid's eyes widen with concern, and she crosses her arms over her chest, leaning in. “Conflicted? What do you mean?”

“I care about you. I truly do.” My words are heartfelt, yet it’s hard to proceed when you know the rest can hurt someone you care about. “But I think we might be moving too fast. I need time to figure things out, to understand what I want.”

Astrid's expression shifts from confusion to worry. “Johan, I thought we were happy together. I thought––”

“I’m happy with you, yeah. But I feel you are taking us too seriously,” I try to explain, feeling a headache build up in the base of my skull. “I need space.”

Astrid's gaze is sharp, her face deepening. “Please clarify. I don’t understand.”

I take a deep breath, my words chosen carefully. “Well…I’m not comfortable with how you've begun to introduce me as your boyfriend. It’s not that I don't care about you, like I said, but it just doesn't sit right with me.”

She frowns, hurt and confused. “What do you mean? We've been spending so much time together; it felt natural to take that step. After everything this summer especially….”

I nod, my guilt intensifying. “I get that, and I’m sorry for not speaking up sooner. I should've been clearer about my feelings, but I didn't want to ruin our time together. Just because we hang out and have sex with each other doesn’t automatically make us boyfriend and girlfriend. You know that, right?”

Her lips purse in frustration. “So, what are we then, Johan? Friends with benefits? Like we were during the holidays? Because that's certainly not what I thought we were now.”

I swallow hard, shifting my glass from hand to hand to have something to do. This is one of the most awkward conversations I’ve had in my entire life. “I know it sounds harsh, but maybe that's what we are right now. I need more time before committing to something serious. It’s not about you––”

“We’ve been friends with benefits for months .” Her voice is getting snappier, but I’m almost certain she’s using anger to hide her hurt. “I thought we had moved past that stage. You could've communicated this earlier. Now, you've put me in an awkward position, especially in front of my parents and friends.”

“And I wanted to talk to you earlier,” I reply, frustration lacing my words, “but it felt like the right moment never came. I didn't want to spoil our time together. I…I’m just…not ready for an official commitment with you, Astrid. That’s all.” Forcing the words out feels almost impossible.

She takes a deep breath, all sorts of emotions flickering across her face before she puts on a brave smile. “Fine, let's not ruin the day. We can deal with this later. Let’s join the others.” And just like that, Astrid walks away, leaving me with a knot in my chest and heavy regret in my heart for not handling the situation better.

But…at least it's handled. For the moment, that’s all I can ask.