Caleb tells me the truth without drama.
Calm.
Direct.
No buildup meant to soften the impact, no careful circling to test how I might react. He stands across from me like someone who has already made peace with the words he’s about to say. That alone tells me this isn’t impulsive. This is settled. Whatever argument he once had with himself is finished. What’s left is clarity, and clarity has a weight to it that hesitation never does.
“I can’t compete with a mate bond,” he says.
He doesn’t rush it. He lets the sentence land fully, gives it space to exist between us before adding anything else. He’s not gauging my reaction. He’s not bracing for a rebuttal. He’s stating a fact as he understands it, not asking permission to feel it.
“Not with dignity,” he adds. “Not without losing myself.
