Her breath hitched. The words, spoken so simply, so sincerely, hung in the air between them, a testament to his unwavering heart. 

She met his gaze, her own eyes brimming with a mixture of affection and regret.

“Dennis,” she began, struggling to find the right words, to convey the depth of her appreciation without offering false hope. 

“You are… you are one of the kindest, most dependable men I have ever known. You see me, truly see me, and you’ve always believed in me. That means the world to me.”

He smiled, a sad, knowing curve of his lips. “But your heart isn’t mine, is it?”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement, delivered with a quiet dignity that broke her heart a little. She shook her head slowly, her voice a whisper. “No. It’s not.”

He squeezed her hand gently before releasing it. “I know,” he said, his gaze unwavering. 

“I’ve seen it. From the moment you started working with Louis, really. There’s a… a cosmic pull between you two. A kind of wild, untamed beauty that I, perhaps, can’t offer.” 

He chuckled, a soft, self-deprecating sound. “I’m more of a steady orbit, I suppose. Predictable. Reliable.”

“And those are wonderful qualities, Dennis,” she insisted, stepping closer, needing him to understand how much she valued him. 

“They’re vital. They’re what kept me sane when everything else was falling apart. You are a good man, Dennis. A truly good man.”

“I know,” he said again, his eyes searching hers. “And I wouldn’t trade our friendship, our collaboration, for anything. You are an extraordinary artist, Cheryl. And a remarkable woman. I will always cherish the time we’ve spent together, the projects we’ve brought to life.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. “But,” he continued, his voice firming, “I also need to be honest with myself. And with you. I can’t… I can’t stand by and watch you build a life with someone else, not when I feel the way I do. It wouldn’t be fair to me, and it wouldn’t be fair to our friendship.”

Cheryl’s heart ached. She understood. 

She truly did. He was protecting himself, and in doing so, protecting the integrity of their bond. 

It was a selfless act, born of genuine affection.

“What does that mean?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“It means,” he said, a wistful smile playing on his lips, “that I’ll always be here for you, professionally. The observatory will always be a home for your art. And I’ll always be a friend. But… I need a little distance, emotionally. To heal, to move on. To find my own steady star, perhaps.”