I dislike this human

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The audacity of Derek! Here I was, trying to be the bigger person, using a flimsy excuse just to see him again, and all I got was lukewarm hospitality and a forced conversation. Ugh, men!

Sure, the forgotten scarf story was a stretch, even for me. But what else was I supposed to do? Call him up and confess my undying love after a week of radio silence? Absolutely not. My pride wouldn't allow it. This, this awkward retrieval mission, was my way of testing the waters.

Seeing him again was a punch to the gut. The way his eyes lingered on me a beat too long, the nervous energy radiating off him – it all screamed he felt something too. Yet, there he was, putting on this whole "moved-on man" charade. Talking about his gym routine? Please. Derek couldn't lift a bag of groceries without grunting like he was about to win the Olympics.

The conversation was torture. We danced around the real issues like a waltz gone horribly wrong. It was all surface-level pleasantries, a stark contrast to the intimacy we once shared. But then, something shifted. Maybe it was the vulnerability in his voice when he admitted missing our movie nights, or the way his gaze softened when I confessed my fear of commitment. Whatever it was, a crack appeared in the wall we'd built between us.

Suddenly, we were talking, really talking. Not accusatory, but honest. We laid bare our truths, the unspoken things that led to the inevitable break-up. It wasn't a fight, but a raw confession. In that moment, I saw a glimmer of the Derek I fell in love with – the one who listened, who understood.

There, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, a fragile hope blossomed. Maybe, just maybe, the forgotten scarf ploy wasn't so bad after all. It forced a conversation we desperately needed. There were still miles to go, bridges to rebuild, and communication gaps to bridge. But for the first time since the break-up, I felt a flicker of optimism.

Derek's suggestion for coffee – not for a scarf retrieval mission, but just to talk – hung in the air. A genuine smile crept onto my face. It wasn't a solution, but it was a start. Maybe, with some effort on both sides, we could rewrite our ending.

Still, the human. Honestly, the whole "woe is me, I'm so moved on" act? Spare me. If he missed me as much as he seemed to, why couldn't he just say it? Men! So frustratingly cryptic at times. But hey, at least he wasn't completely shutting me out. That was a win in my book, even if it was a small one.

Walking away, I couldn't help but think – the forgotten scarf might have been a lie, but the chance at reconciliation that bloomed from it felt real. And that, for now, was all that mattere