The Complexity of Affection

Diane entered her apartment and sank onto the worn-out couch in her living room. Her heart was heavy with the burden of unspoken words. It had been a long evening, not because of the walk home, but because of the weight in her chest that she had been carrying for months. She slowly made her way to the bathroom, and sat there for a while, lost in thought, her head buried in her hands. “God, why does this keep happening?” she muttered. When she finally rose, she changed into her nightgown, wrapped her hair, and crawled under her duvet, staring at the ceiling, as her mind raced with thoughts she couldn’t escape.

The club had always been her sanctuary, a place where people gathered to share stories, uplift one another, and leave with a sense of renewal. Diane loved the atmosphere, and the camaraderie. The meeting held once a week at John and Carrie’s home in Hampstead, London. The evening had started like any other, with warm greetings and light-hearted banter. But then, he walked in. Ben. The man who had captured her heart. She wasn’t expecting to see him, because he had moved to another city in the UK, and his absence had become a dull ache she had learned to live with. Yet, there he was, smiling that same smile that made her heart flutter. Her thoughts began to spiral: “Why am I not over him? I haven’t thought about him for a while, and then I see him, and it feels like I never stopped thinking of him.”

Ben greeted everyone, his presence commanding the room in a way that was both familiar and foreign to her now. When he hugged her, Diane felt a jolt—his touch, once comforting, now felt like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be. He called her “Ms. Office,” a playful nickname he had given her because of how smartly she dressed for work. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Inside, she was battling the urge to confront him, to ask why he had become so distant. Why he’s close enough to touch, but at the same time out of reach? Why one minute he’s filling her world with warmth and the next, he’s a stranger. “How do you love someone who doesn’t even know what they want?” But before she could utter a word, another friend of theirs pulled him away.

As the evening went on, Ben sat beside Diane, teasing her, his arm casually draped over her shoulder. “I’ve missed you, just a little,” he said with a grin, and Diane hated how those words made her heart race. He was playing with her emotions, and she knew it, yet she couldn’t help but fall for it every time.

Ben was more complicated than Diane knew. He had always admired her—her intelligence, her wit, the way she carried herself with such confidence. But there was a part of him that held back, unsure if she was truly the one for him. Diane was everything he thought he wanted, yet something always made him hesitate. The uncertainty gnawed at him, and it was easier to retreat into silence than to confront his own feelings.

He enjoyed their banter, their late-night conversations, the easy way they fit together, and their affection for each other. He admired Diane’s assertiveness, the way she could make him laugh with just a word, and her radiant smile. But there were times when her intensity made him uneasy. He worried about the things he might not be able to handle, like the moments when her behaviour seemed childish or when her strong beliefs about family and culture clashed with his own. Ben didn’t want to date her, but he didn’t want to lose her either. He knew she had affection for him, and part of him wanted to keep that connection alive. He wasn’t ready to let her go. It was a delicate balance, one that he wasn’t sure how to maintain.

As they talked, Diane’s gaze held his, searching for the right moment to ask about his sudden silence over the past few weeks—why he hadn’t called to congratulate her on her recent promotion or even sent a simple text on her birthday. But when she finally opened her mouth to speak, all that came out was, “I’ve missed you too.”

The meeting began, and she found it hard to concentrate. Her mind kept drifting back to Ben, to the way he had once made her feel seen, and valued before he started pulling away, leaving her confused and hurt.

Then in the middle of the meeting, Ben dropped a bombshell. “I’ve gotten a job in Nairobi, Kenya. I start on Monday.” Diane’s heart stopped for a moment, then started racing again. She forced a smile, congratulating him. Her smile was big, too big, masking the whirlwind of emotions she battled within her. How could he just leave? What did this mean for them—whatever “them” even was? She had so many questions, but she knew she wouldn’t ask him. Not now. Not ever. 

After the meeting, Diane walked by the corridor where Ben was standing, her shoulder lightly grazing his as she made her way to the kitchen.  And without turning to look at him, she said softly “We will miss you, Ben.” He understood perfectly what she meant.  “Hmm! I hear you.” He smiled as he walked down the stairs.

As she walked home, the cold air biting at her skin, all she could think of was Ben was leaving, and without any hope of clarity about their relationship. Diane thought about the what-ifs. What if she had been more forward? and told him how she felt. What if she had said something? done something? But what difference would it have made? She felt a pang of regret.

Then she remembered the words of her sister’s friend, who had once told her to “enjoy the pain.” She had never understood what that meant, but now, as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, she finally did. The pain, the uncertainty, the longing—it was all part of the human experience. And maybe, just maybe, it was worth it.

She smiled to herself, thinking of the good times she had shared with Ben, the laughs, the little arguments, the moments of connection. He was her friend, and no matter what, she would hold onto that. And with that, she closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would bring her peace. But even as she drifted off, Ben’s face lingered in her thoughts, a reminder of what could have been, and what might still be.