When I watched the movie, it hit me harder than it ever had before. Not because of the ship or the spectacle or the tragedyI knew was real, but because for the first time in my life, Ifeltit. I understood it. The way love strips you down to your most honest self. The way it makes sacrifice not feel like loss but instinct. The quiet, unflinching certainty of choosing someone else’s safety, again and again, without ever needing to be asked.
I finally understood the lengths you’d go to. The things you’d give up. The way you’d step aside, let the cold take you out, let the whole world end, if it meant the person you loved got to keep breathing.
If given the chance, I’d do it all for her.
Every sacrifice. Every impossible choice.
Without hesitation.
A few moments passed, and I waited for her to say something. Anything to keep the conversation going. If she did, I’d know she didn’t really want to let us go the way she was forcing herself to. That she didn’t want to end what we had, even if she couldn’t see any way to keep it.
I know she didn’t trust that I could handle it all, but I could. I wanted to. More than I wanted to breathe.
When she messaged me a few minutes after that last message, my heart literally soared.
ALANA:So how sad were you—on a scale of 1 to 10? I’m thinking solid 7, and that you asked Nate to cuddle after.
I smiled with relief. It was just enough to know there was still hope. That it wasn’t actually the end.
ME:I’ll see your 7, and I’ll raise you a 9. And no, we did not cuddle, but I did ask him to hold my hand, which helped.A lot.
ALANA:Actually laughing out loud.
It was the perfect exchange. Our teasing banter. Our inside jokes. The way something in me awoke and tilted my lips into a smile. It was all there, and I couldn’t let it go.
ME:Believe it when I see it. Come to Donn’s later.
Three little bubbles popped up before they vanished without a trace. My hope plummeted, spiking once more when those three bubbles resurfaced. My heart pounded hard as I waited, hoping,prayingI’d get a tiny bit more of her light again—the one I agonizingly waited seven days to see. But it leveled out quickly, like the flatline of a heart monitor reporting cardiac arrest, because her response never came.
Time of death, 5:07 p.m.
I contemplated texting her a few days after that to redirect the friendship back to its original origin—Stanley’s class project—but I decided against it. I figured it might be better to keep my portion of the work captive, if only as a means of ransom. If I held onto it long enough, she’d have to reach out eventually, right? Except knowing her, she’d probably just buckle down and rob herself of any free time as she attempted to complete my assigned portion herself. I hoped I’d have a chance to get to her before then.
When Professor Stanley handed out a last minute outline for the final and claimed he wouldn’t be uploading it for virtual students—they’d have to see him in person during office hours—I took it as a saving grace. I showed up at her door right after class, outline in hand, knowing she’d still be home for at least another hour before her last class of the day.
I released a shaky breath before I knocked swiftly and listened as the muffled footsteps grew closer. The lock snappedopen and the knob jiggled with its turn. And then frosted eyes widened at the sight of me. A flare of warmth passed in them but was immediately replaced with guarded walls.
“Hi,” I breathe, trying to tame the wild way my heart was racing just at the sight of her.
“Hey.” She takes a reluctant step back, widening the entrance to let me in.
“I brought you Stanley’s outline,” I say as I walk through the door. I place my excuse down on the counter before turning around.
“I figured you would.” She closes the door behind her and crosses her arms in front of her. Her eyes are trained on me, sad and longing. So many words try to claw their way out my throat. It’s a struggle not to say everything I want to.
“You didn’t leave.” It’s another small victory, the idea that she knew there was a chance I’d come by, and she chose to stay.
She tucks her bottom lip in between her teeth, her gaze falling to my feet before rising up again.
“Are you gonna talk to me?”
“What do you want me to say, Jake?”
“I don’t know.” I don’t hide the edge to my tone well. It’s hard to hide my feelings around her. “Maybe explain to me what’s going on? Why you’re suddenly avoiding me like I’m the plague.”
“You’re not…” She lets out a frustrated breath, tucking her hair behind her ears. “It’s not you, okay? It’s me, and it’s…”
“It’s what?”
