“So nobody told you why I had to leave?The real reason?”
She stays silent.
“I overdosed.On heroin.Nick and Jay found me and literally had to drag me out of a halfway house."
She turns to face me fully, and I can see the shock and pain in her eyes.
"Why would you do that to yourself?"
"You almost died in my arms Nora.I held you while you bled out in the middle of the road and there was nothing I could do about it."The words come out raw, scraping against my throat."And before you tell me I can't blame myself for what happened—I do.You wouldn't have been on that road if you hadn't come looking for me."
"Nate—"
"Every time I closed my eyes, that’s all I saw.You—blood everywhere, silent and slowly dying.It replayed over andover, like some fucked-up loop I couldn’t escape.I begged it to stop, but it wouldn’t.”
The shadow voice slithers in:Of course it didn’t.You earned every second of that hell and you know it.
"It was my choice," she says fiercely."Going after you was my choice.What happened was an accident, a terrible, horrible accident, it wasn't your fault."
There’s something in her face when she mentions the word accident.
"I can understand why you had to get out.But radio silence for eight months?"
I run my hands through my hair, trying to find words that don't sound like excuses.
"I was so fucked up, Nora… I—" I can't finish the sentence."The drugs, the guilt, the way I felt about you—it was all toxic.I was toxic."
"Nate, that wasn't your decision to make."Her tone holds frustration now.
"Maybe not.But it's the one I made."I pause."When I got here, Javier said I needed to cut ties with everything from before.No contact.No messages.I had to get my head straight."
Good.Blame Javier.Much easier than admitting the truth—that fear owned you.That you drifted exactly the way weak minds do, drifting until someone else makes your decisions for you.
"I mean, at first, it was his idea but I convinced myself I was doing the right thing, that staying away was protecting you somehow."
I take a deep breath, knowing what I’m about to tell her won’t really fix things.
“Every time I saw your name on my phone, I wanted to answer."
But you didn’t.Because you knew she’d see right through you.
"But I couldn't.Because I wasn't okay.I was barely holding it together, and every day felt like I might break.And then the guilt started eating at me—guilt about not responding, about making you worry, about being the reason you were hurt in the first place."
Nora reaches for my hand and I let her.Somehow her touch still has the power to keep the shadow at bay.
"The longer I went without responding, the worse it got.How do you come back from that?So the guilt turned into something else.Something darker.I needed to believe you were thriving in London and you were.That’s all I wanted for you."
Say it.Tell her how ashamed you were.Tell her how weak you became.How your own mind owned you like a puppet.
"I'd let everything fall apart and I’d turned to drugs to make me feel better about what I’d done.Do you know what guilt like that does to your mind?It destroys it.It fucked mine, royally.I couldn’t interfere in your life like that—not when I felt like poison."
Look what you put her through.Just like you always do.
"I'd start messages a hundred times.But then I'd delete them all because what right did I have to waltz back into your life after putting you through hell?"
I can feel her eyes on me, steady and too perceptive for my own good.
"I guess I just convinced myself that staying away was kinder," I say."That you'd move on, find someone better.Someone who could give you everything you ever wanted.And honestly, knowing what I know now about you, I’m glad I made that call."
