Gary didn’t mean to rush things.

It started innocently enough. A longer message. A suggestion framed as a joke. A question asked a little too eagerly. None of it was dramatic. All of it was noticeable.

He wanted reassurance.

Not because anything was wrong, but because things were quiet. And quiet, for Gary, had always felt temporary. Dangerous. Like the calm before being told he’d misread everything.

So he pushed, just a bit.

The response wasn’t rejection. It was hesitation. A careful slowing that mirrored the caution he’d just abandoned.

Gary felt the familiar flush of embarrassment rise in his chest. He recognised the mistake immediately. Timing. He’d reached for certainty instead of trusting the process.

He apologised without over-explaining. Didn’t make a joke of it. Didn’t dramatise it either. Just acknowledged the misstep and stepped back.

That restraint mattered.

Now he had to decide what came next. He could genuinely slow down again, letting consistency rebuild the trust he’d nudged out of alignment. Or he could retreat emotionally, pulling away to protect his pride and avoid feeling exposed.

Gary sat with the discomfort longer than he usually would have. It didn’t kill him.

That felt like progress too.

Apologise and slow down properly → Page 82

Withdraw emotionally to avoid embarrassment → Page 71