My stomach twisted tighter with every glance.
God, I didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to touch him again. Didn’t want to breathe him in. And yet something inside me screamed, quiet and desperate:Please stop me. Please fight for me. Show me I still matter to you, even if I can’t believe it myself.
Part of me hated him. Hated him with everything I had left.And still—God, still—I wanted him to tear open the door. To pin me against the wall. To say it.You’re staying. You’re mine.
I hated myself for the thought.
My hands shook so hard the zipper caught twice before it closed.
A car drove by. I froze.Headlights brushed the wall—Maybe it was him.Maybe—But it wasn’t.
Only strangers.
Only silence.
He knew I was leaving.And he didn’t come.Not a message. Not a sound. Nothing.
Rage hit first. Then despair.I wasn’t worth it—not even enough to stop me.That was the truth I’d been running from.
And it finally caught me.
With the last of my strength, I dragged my bag to the door and forced my hand down on the handle.
Every step betrayed my heart.Every step screamed Stay!My mind whispered Run.I didn’t know which voice was mine anymore.
Streetlights smeared into gold and rain as I ran. The world kept moving. He didn’t.
I clutched my phone as if I could will a message to appear. But the screen stayed dark. Like him.
As the train pulled in, I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. I was so tired. I waited for him until the doors closed. He had let me go—without a fight, without a word.
And though I had expected him to stop me at any moment, I knew I wouldn’t have stayed.
Maybe that was what hurt the most.
That I left.
And that he made it so easy.
Maybe that was how love died—not with betrayal, but with silence.
The train doors opened with a hiss. Cold air rushed in, biting at my skin, but I barely felt it.
With the bag slung over my shoulder, I stumbled across the platform, each step like wading through water. People streamed past me. Voices. Shouts. The world roared and I didn’t.
I wasn’t searching for faces. I didn’t want to see anyone. Only one person.
And then she was there.
Jen.
Standing at the edge of the platform, hands shoved deep into her coat pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold. Her eyes found me instantly. No smile. No questions. Just one second where she saw everything.
My steps slowed. I wanted to stay strong. I wanted not to fall apart.
But when she wordlessly opened her arms, something inside me ripped wide open.
The bag slipped from my shoulder. I stumbled the last few feet and let her pull me in—firm, unshakable. No questions. No reproach. Just warmth—and the silent promise that I didn’t have to fight anymore. For once, someone didn’t ask me to explain my pain. They just held it.
