Introduction
Hello readers! Today's story is a little different. Love is often portrayed as a big, powerful force. It sweeps us off our feet and transforms our lives. But what happens when love is withheld, offered in pieces rather than whole? In Installment Love: A Sign of Selfishness, Clara and Ryan begin a bitter-sweet journey together. They navigate a delicate mix of love and fear.
Set in a warm autumn season, this story showcases a deep and emotional clash. A woman seeks authenticity, while a man grapples with his own insecurities. Clara's heart is wounded but strong. She confronts Ryan, who is wary but afraid to be vulnerable. In the cozy coffee shop, their conversation highlights the twists of modern relationships. Here, emotional investment can seem like a transaction. Love often comes in small doses, like payments on a loan.
It's more than a story of heartbreak. It's about having the courage to want more. It's about avoiding half-measures and taking real risks. The installment of Love shows that true love requires courage, faith, and a leap into the unknown.
Beginning of the story
The autumn air was crisp, with leaves painting the streets in fiery hues of orange and red. Clara adjusted her scarf as she made her way to the coffee shop on the corner, her heart heavy with a question that had been haunting her for weeks. Could love be given in installments, like payments for a house or a car? Or was it all or nothing?
She wasn’t sure anymore.!
Pushing open the café door, she was greeted by the comforting aroma of coffee and pastries.
The soft murmur of conversation and the gentle hum of the espresso machine felt like a warm cocoon. But none of it eased the tight knot in her chest.
There he was, Ryan, sitting by the window, his fingers absently tapping the table. His dark hair was slightly messy, his eyes distant, as though he were pondering something far removed from her. It was a sight Clara had grown accustomed to. Ryan always seemed half-present, as though part of him was locked away in a safe she’d never been given the combination to.
“Hey,” she said, sliding into the seat across from him.
He looked up, startled, before offering her a half-smile. “Hey.”
Clara noticed the small stack of papers beside him, a work proposal, maybe, or one of his endless side projects. Ryan was always busy. Always distracted. But never too busy to say he cared, even if his actions left her feeling otherwise.
She wrapped her hands around her coffee cup,
letting the warmth seep into her fingers as she mustered the courage to say what had been on her mind.
"Ryan," she began, her voice steady but soft, "do you think...love can be given in pieces? Like...a little now and maybe more later?"
Ryan frowned, his fingers pausing their rhythmic tapping. "What do you mean?"
“I mean us,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “You say you care, but it feels like you’re holding back. Like you’re offering just enough to keep me here but never enough to make me feel secure.”
Ryan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
His expression was a mixture of confusion and frustration.
“Clara, love isn’t a switch. You can’t just flip it on and expect everything to fall into place. It takes time.”
“Time, yes,” Clara agreed. “But this? This feels like you’re rationing it. Like you’re afraid to give too much, in case it doesn’t work out.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened. “I’m not rationing anything. I’m just...careful. Love isn’t something you rush into. You of all people should understand that.”
Her past. He was throwing her past back at her, the one where she’d been hurt so deeply it had taken years to rebuild herself. But this wasn’t about that. This was about how his guarded affection felt less like caution and more like selfishness.
“I do understand,” Clara said, her voice steadying. “But there’s a difference between being careful and being selfish. And this? This feels selfish, Ryan. Like you’re only giving enough to keep me on the hook, but not enough to risk getting hurt yourself.”
Ryan shifted in his seat, looking away. His silence spoke volumes.Clara pressed on, her words spilling out like a dam breaking.
“Love isn’t a negotiation, Ryan. It’s not something you pay off in installments. It’s a leap. A choice. And if you can’t make that choice, then what are we even doing here?”
He finally looked at her, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite decipher, regret, perhaps, or maybe fear.
“I thought I was protecting both of us,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” Clara said, standing up. “You were protecting yourself. And in doing that, you forgot that love isn’t about guarantees. It’s about trust. Vulnerability. And if you can’t give that, then I can’t keep standing here, waiting for you to decide.”
She grabbed her coat, ignoring the way her hands trembled, and walked away.
Outside, the autumn wind kissed her cheeks, carrying away the tears she finally let fall. Love, she realized, wasn’t about installments. It was about courage, about giving fully even when it was terrifying.
Three Weeks Later
Clara sat on her couch, a steaming cup of tea in hand, her apartment filled with the soft glow of fairy lights. She had expected to feel a void after walking away from Ryan, but instead, she felt lighter, Freer.
Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was a message from Ryan.
Ryan : Can we talk?
She stared at the screen, her heart pounding. She hadn’t heard from him since that day at the café. Part of her had wondered if she ever would.
After a moment’s hesitation,she replied: Clara : What’s there to talk about?
His response came almost immediately. Ryan : Everything. I think I messed up.
Two Days Later
They met at the same café, but this time, the atmosphere felt different. Ryan looked nervous, his usual air of confidence replaced by something raw and vulnerable.
“I owe you an apology,” he began, his voice unsteady. “You were right. I was holding back, and it wasn’t fair to you. I was scared, of getting hurt, of failing, of...everything. But I realize now that holding back wasn’t protecting us. It was breaking us.”
Clara listened, her heart aching at the sincerity in his words.
“I can’t promise I’ll be perfect,” he continued. “But I want to try. Fully. No more installments.”
She studied him, searching his eyes for any sign of hesitation. But all she saw was honesty.
“I’m not asking for perfect,” she said softly. “I’m asking for real.”
Ryan reached across the table, his hand brushing hers. “Then real is what I’ll give you.”
The autumn wind swirled outside, but inside the café, something new was beginning. Not a promise of perfection, but a commitment to try. Together.
••The End••