And now here we are.
I walk up and he's exactly the same. Same muscles. In the same way, his hands are tucked in his pockets like he's holding back whole galaxies. Same look in his eyes when he sees me—like someone exhaling after being underwater too long.
"Hey," I say.
"Hey," he says back, voice smooth but too careful. Like he's afraid that if he speaks too loudly, I'll disappear.
The first few minutes are nothing. Weather. Work. Jokes that don't land like we used to. I laugh once, but it doesn't reach my eyes. He notices. Of course he does.
Then I say it. Soft. Almost like a confession.
"I saw your podcast."
He freezes for a second. Smiles without meaning it. "Yeah?"
A pause. Heavy. Like the air shifted.
"I mean," I add, eyes on the ground, "you're everywhere. Spotify, YouTube, TikTok. Even my mom sent me a clip."
He huffs a laugh. "Didn't realize moms were my demographic."
"She said you looked tired."
"I am."
And that's when I finally said it. The thing that's been burning a hole in my chest for years.
"You don't have to wait for me anymore."
He doesn't respond. Just looks at me like I just handed him something sharp and asked him to smile through it.
"I mean it," I say, "You're famous now. You've got options. Models. Actresses. People who didn't break you."
He still doesn't speak. Still doesn't look away.
"I just…" I breathe, "I don't want to be the reason you hold yourself back."
He blinks slowly. Then:
"You think that's what I'm doing?"
"I think," I say, eyes shining now, "you're the kind of person who loves once, and hard. And I don't want that love to ruin you."
The silence that follows isn't awkward. It's worse.
It's honest.
Finally, he says—quiet, wrecked, beautiful:
"You didn't ruin me, Terra."
I turn to walk away.
And he doesn't stop me.
Not because he doesn't want to.
But because loving me means letting me go,
even when it kills him.
I turn back just before disappearing into the night.
Look him dead in the eye.
"One more thing," I say, voice breaking in the middle.
"Forget me. Just like I did."
Then she's gone.
And he's just standing there, breathing like someone punched the air out of him.