I open my mouth, then close it again, because no.It won’t bring back the twelve years I lost without him.It won’t undo the birthdays, the holidays, the quiet mornings that could’ve been ours.It won’t unwrite the nights I lay awake wondering why I wasn’t enough.
Why did he choose the groupies over me?But that wasn’t the story.It was what my father wanted me to believe.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
“I’m sorry too,” he says.
My eyes sting, and I can’t tell if it’s from relief or regret.“That day, everything looked ...I should’ve?—”
“Yeah,” he interrupts gently.“But I fucked up too.I should’ve?—”
“We were kids,” I say quickly, cutting him off because I can’t let him shoulder all of this.“We were teenagers and scared and he had already started manipulating you long before I ever figured it out.”
“Nineteen isn’t that young,” he replies, but there’s no conviction behind it.
“It is,” I say.“It’s young, stupid, and eager to please the people who sign our paychecks—or who are supposed to love us unconditionally.You didn’t know any better.And I ...I wanted to believe him because I needed him to love me.”
He nods slowly, his gaze softening just a little.“I blame the adults.The ones who convinced me I was entitled to everything while never teaching me what normal even meant.”
There’s a pause.Not uncomfortable, just ...necessary.Like we’re both recalibrating.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.“I’m not trying to fix anything.I just needed you to know I see it now.All of it.”
“You don’t have to explain,” he says, though his voice catches slightly.“I’ve been working through it.I’m still angry.But not at you.Never at you.I knew what he did and why you wouldn’t forgive me.He set it up so that you’ll never forgive me.”
“But there’s nothing to forgive,” I object.
He shrugs his shoulder probably as if to say,Well, it’s too late now, isn’t it?
We both go quiet again, and in that silence, something shifts.Not forgiveness.Not quite.But maybe the start of understanding.A thaw.A small crack in the ice between us.
“I wish I could stay, but ...I’m still working on things,” he says finally.“After I lost you, I just let myself go.The will to be myself ...it disappeared.It’s nothing personal.I just have to find myself first.”He turns like he might walk away.
“I hope you find happiness,” I whisper, the words sticking in my throat.“See you around, maybe?”
“I’m sure we will,” he says without turning back.“I’ll just have to be patient.”
And maybe that’s all we’ll ever be now.Two people who broke apart.Two people who once loved each other deeply and now share a scar.Not enemies.Not friends.Not lovers.
Just two souls walking away from the same fire—still singed, still raw—but maybe, finally, on separate paths toward healing.
ChapterOne Hundred One
Private Message | EchoZone Internal Chat
From:StringTheory27
To:DeadStrings
Date:September 29th, 1997, 9:12 PM
Subject:I did it ...I think
I think I got closure.
Not the poetic version you read about in novels—nothing wrapped in soft light or tied up in graceful goodbyes.This was uneasy.But necessary.It didn’t feel like victory.It felt like breathing after holding it in too long.
There were no big revelations.No dramatic scenes.Just us facing the truth and deciding it doesn’t get to control us anymore.I wished him happiness.He said he’ll find it, and that was that.
