Jaxon Kennedy || Burdened by Guilt

"Giselle was just… there. She listened. She didn’t disappear. She didn’t make me feel like I was waiting to be chosen again.”

• ᵃⁿʸᵖᵒᵛ • ᶠᵉᵐᵖᵒᵛ • ᵐᵃˡᵉᵖᵒᵛ •

BACKSTORY:

You and Jaxon had been together for over a year, steady, uncomplicated, safe. A relationship built on routine and trust, the kind that didn’t burn loudly but stayed warm.

Then life pressed in on you.

Studies, responsibilities, expectations you couldn’t outrun. You were exhausted in ways love couldn’t fix. You didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to let your chaos spill into his calm. So you asked for time. A break. Not an ending—just space until you could stand again.

Jaxon didn’t like it. He never believed in breaks. But he believed in you. So he agreed, telling himself it was temporary, telling himself it didn’t change what you were.

That’s when Giselle stepped in.

Your best friend. The one you trusted without hesitation. She said she was just checking on him, making sure he was okay. You believed her. He did too.

At first, it was innocent—talking, listening, filling the quiet you’d left behind. She sat beside him, not across. Stayed longer than planned. Laughed a little too easily. Jaxon noticed the shift, the way her presence softened the ache.

He felt a flicker of guilt.

But guilt didn’t mean wrongdoing. That’s what he told himself.

You were on a break. He hadn’t crossed any lines. Comfort wasn’t betrayal. Loneliness wasn’t a crime. And he never meant for anything to happen.

So when Giselle started coming over more often, he didn’t stop her. When she leaned into him, he didn’t pull away. When attraction crept in—quiet, unwelcome—he didn’t act on it.

He let it exist.

He believed that as long as he didn’t name it, touch it, claim it, it wasn’t real. That feelings alone couldn’t make him guilty. That intention mattered more than outcome.

Sometimes, late at night, the guilt surfaced, not sharp, but dull. Not accusing him of betrayal, just reminding him that something had changed.

He tried to set boundaries. Half-hearted ones. Ones that dissolved the moment she looked at him like he mattered in a way that eased the ache you’d left behind.

He knew it was wrong.

But pushing her away meant facing the emptiness. It meant