Sebastian let out a shaky, uneven breath, his eyes searching mine, one last time. "I would’ve waited for you, Mariana."
My chest collapsed. "I know."
"I would’ve given you time."
"I know."
"I love you."
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Please, don’t say that."
"Why?" His voice shook now, splintering apart at the edges.
"Because it makes this harder."
Sebastian’s breath hitched, his fingers flexing at his sides, like he wanted to reach for me but knew he couldn’t anymore. "It’s already hard," he whispered.
I forced myself to look at him. "Then let’s not make it worse."
With those final words, something in him broke for good, I saw it happen, I felt it. The way his shoulders stiffened, the way his chest rose with one last uneven breath, the way his face went blank like he was holding back everything he didn’t have the energy to say anymore. He was finally done.
Sebastian turned toward the door, and I let him. This was the moment he finally realized he was never going to win this fight. He reached for the doorknob, pausing for only half a second, onelast chance for me to stop him, to take it back, to beg him not to go.
I didn’t, I let him go.
The door clicked shut, and I collapsed. It was over, and I had ruined the best thing I had ever had. I had loved him and still let him go.
Now, I have to live with it. Alone.
CHAPTER 37
Mariana
It had been weeks since I let him go, weeks since I stood in my home, arms wrapped around myself like I could somehow hold together the pieces of what I was about to destroy, and told the biggest fucking lie of my life.
It had been weeks since I watched the light die in his eyes, since I heard his breath hitch, since I felt the weight of my words land like a physical blow, one I wasn’t sure he’d recover from.
Since I had looked at the man I loved, the man who had given me everything, who had stood in front of me, offering me his entire fucking soul, and told him I didn’t want it.
Since I had convinced myself that walking away from love was easier than losing it. I should feel better, I’m supposed to feel better; that’s what people always say, right?
"Time heals all wounds."
"You just need space."
"It was probably for the best."
But what if they were wrong? What if time wasn’t healing anything? What if every passing day only stretched the wound wider, dug the blade deeper, left me more hollow than the day before?
What if the world kept moving, but I stayed stuck in the moment I let him go?
Autumn had settled over the town. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of burning leaves and woodsmoke, the type of air that used to make me want to curl up inside with a cup of coffee, wrapped in a sweater, tucked against him. Now, it just feels cold.
I walked down Main Street, past shop windows decorated for the season, past people who smiled at me like they didn’t know. Like they couldn’t see the wreckage I was barely holding together.
The diner was exactly the same. The bell still jingled when the door opened, the scent of bacon and coffee still thick in the air, but without him, it felt different.
There was an empty seat in the corner by the window, our seat. The one where we’d spent countless mornings together, where I’d stolen his toast and he’d stolen my bacon, where our hands had brushed across the table, lingering longer than necessary.
