“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile he couldn’t see. “Sure. Again.”
“Promise. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I lied.
When the call ended, the silence came rushing back in. The candles crackled faintly, the pasta cooling in its bowl. I stood there for a moment, the phone still in my hand, staring at the table I’d set—two plates, two glasses, a bottle of wine I’d splurged on because he’d said we should celebrate.
Celebrate what, I wasn’t even sure anymore.
The national scouts. His latest goal. Another almost. Another moment where I’d be proud from afar, watching him live the kind of dream that didn’t seem to have space for me anymore.
I sank into the nearest chair, the wood cool against my palms. The food smelled good, comforting in the way home-cooked meals are supposed to be, but my stomach twisted too tightly to eat.
This was what ambition looked like, I reminded myself. This was the cost. Late nights, canceled plans, the endless hustle of chasing something bigger than yourself. I should’ve been used to it by now—we both lived our lives by schedules and deadlines, always racing time.
But lately, it didn’t feel like we were racing together.
I traced the rim of the unused wine glass, my reflection bending and warping in its curve. There was a time when we’d built things side by side—laughed over late-night takeout, stayed up too long talking about dreams that felt shared. Now it was just… me, holding space for him.
I pushed away from the table, blew out one candle, then the other. The soft hiss of smoke felt too final.
The pasta went into the fridge, the wine back on the counter. I told myself I’d reheat it tomorrow, but I knew I wouldn’t.
As I wiped down the counter, my eyes drifted to the clock—6:42 p.m. He’d probably just arrived, smiling that perfect smile, shaking hands, already charming whoever mattered most.
And I was here, in a quiet apartment that suddenly felt too big.
I’d told myself this was fine. That love was about supporting someone’s dreams, even when it meant standing in the background.
But as the night settled in, heavy and still, I couldn’t shake the thought that somewhere along the way, ambition had stopped being something we shared—and become something that kept us apart.
I pulled the takeout container from the fridge — cold sesame noodles, half an egg roll, the kind of meal you only ate because it was there. The pasta from earlier sat untouched in the fridge beside it, a quiet reminder of what the night was supposed to be.
I ate standing at the counter, chopsticks in one hand, phone in the other, the glow of the screen cutting through the dim kitchen. Emails piled up — sponsors confirming seating charts, volunteers asking about shift times, invoices flagged for approval. The usual.
Then one new message popped up at the top of my inbox.
From: Cam Hunter
Subject: Storm Coordination Meeting—Reminder
Tomorrow, 10 AM. Media setup, player scheduling, and gala updates. Bring your notes.
Of course. Cam was nothing if not punctual — and relentless.
I typed out a quick Got it, see you then, and hit send before I could think too hard about it. The words blurred a little on the screen. My head felt heavy, like I’d been holding my breath all day and forgot to let it go.
I tossed the empty container into the trash, leaning my elbows on the counter. The silence stretched, filled only by the hum of the refrigerator and the faint noise of traffic outside my apartment window.
I told myself I understood. That I couldn’t fault someone for chasing their dream.
Kyle was doing exactly what he’d always said he would — working hard, making a name for himself, playing the long game. I admired that. I really did.
But admiration didn’t keep the bed warm.
I rubbed the back of my neck, staring down at my phone again, at all the reminders and color-coded events filling tomorrow’s calendar. Between the foundation and the gala, there wasn’t much room left for anything else. Maybe that was for the best.
You can’t fault someone for chasing their dream, I thought again. You just wish you didn’t have to keep stepping aside so he could run faster.
