The couch in Jada’s therapist’s office was the kind that tried too hard to be comfortable. Soft, but stiff. Much like Jada herself these days.
“I keep thinking about reaching out to him,” she said, eyes locked on a framed print of some abstract art on the wall. “Micah.”
Her therapist, Clarice, nodded slowly. “What would you say?”
“I don’t know. Maybe… ‘I’m sorry.’ Or maybe just, ‘Do you ever think about me?’ Something dumb.”
“Why do you feel the need to apologize?”
Jada shrugged, twisting the tissue in her hand. “Because I pushed him away. I hurt him.”
“And do you believe saying sorry will bring him back?”
That question stayed in the air longer than Jada expected. She finally answered, “No. But maybe it’ll ease the ache.”
Clarice leaned in slightly. “Sometimes we apologize because we want peace. Other times, we apologize because we want permission — permission to hold on.”
Later that night, Jada lay in bed, her phone glowing in her hand. Micah’s thread sat open. No typing, just staring. The way you stare at a wound to see if it’s healing or festering.
She typed, “I miss you.”
Deleted it.
Typed again: “I’ve been thinking a lot about what went wrong.”
Deleted that too.
Instead, she threw the phone to the floor and walked barefoot into the kitchen, only to find Naomi sitting at her counter with takeout and that look she always wore when she knew Jada was spiraling.
“You didn’t text him, did you?” Naomi asked before she could say a word.
“No,” Jada exhaled. “But I wanted to.”
Naomi handed her a fork. “So, talk to me instead.”
They ate quietly for a few minutes before Naomi said, “I know this is hard. But J… you’re not ready. Not for him. Not for anyone.”
Jada bristled. “I’ve been in therapy. I’m trying.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t trying. I’m saying your ‘why’ still comes from pain. You don’t want Micah back. You want to stop feeling like you messed everything up.”
Jada sat in silence. The truth was sour on her tongue.
“You want him to validate you,” Naomi continued. “To say, ‘Hey, you’re not unlovable.’ But he can’t fix that part. That’s on you.”
Tears welled up, but Jada blinked them away. “I just want to be okay.”
Naomi reached over and squeezed her hand. “Then start by giving yourself what you keep asking from him. Forgiveness.”
And maybe that was the hardest kind of sorry — the one you say to yourself.
Baawa Unfiltered 