It had been a month and a half of holding on to something slowly slipping through Ellie's fingers.
The messages were still there, but barely. Ady still replied—but often late, short, tired. Ellie told herself it was okay. He was working. He was chasing his dreams. He was trying.
But deep down, she knew something had changed.
And it wasn't just him. It was her too. The waiting, the wondering, the ache of not knowing where she stood anymore—it was wearing her down.
She didn't blame him. Not once. She loved how focused he was. How he pushed himself to become more. That was the Ady she fell in love with—the one who wanted to be better, do better.
But where did she fit in now?
Most nights, Ellie stared at her ceiling, phone in hand, wondering if this was still what love was supposed to feel like. She remembered the late-night calls, the way they used to laugh until they ran out of breath. The comfort of his voice. The way her heart would skip when she saw his name pop up.
That feeling was becoming a memory.
She opened their chat again. It had been two days since his last reply.
"Sorry, been exhausted. I'll call soon."
That word again. Soon.
She reread the message until the letters blurred, then finally typed:
"Can I call you tonight at 9:30? I want to talk about something."
He read it twenty minutes later.
"Sure. I'll be waiting."
Ellie's heart squeezed. He didn't ask what it was about. Maybe he already knew.
The clock read 9:29 PM. Ellie sat on her bed, phone in hand, hands trembling.
She had rehearsed the words all day. Told herself this was for the best. That letting go didn't mean she stopped loving him. It meant she loved him enough to set him free.
At exactly 9:30, she pressed the call button.
Ady picked up on the second ring. His voice was soft.
"Hey, Ellie."
She closed her eyes. "Hi."
Silence stretched between them.
"I've missed you," he said first.
"I know," she whispered. "I missed you too."
He sighed. "I'm sorry. Things have been really hard lately. I want to explain—"
"You don't have to," Ellie interrupted gently. "I know you've been doing your best. And I'm proud of you."
Ady didn't speak. She could hear the faint sound of his breathing.
"I just… I've been thinking," she continued. "This—whatever we have—it's starting to hurt more than it heals. And it's not because of anything you did wrong."
Still, he said nothing.
"I know you're growing, Ady. And I want that for you. You deserve to become everything you dream of. I just… I don't think I can keep walking beside you from this far away. Not like this."
He finally spoke, voice thick. "Ellie…"
"I love you," she said softly. "I love you so much that I don't want to be the one who makes you feel guilty for not replying. Or who waits for a 'soon' that keeps getting pushed back."
"Please don't do this," he whispered. "We can fix this. Just give me time—"
"That's just it," she said. "I don't want to keep waiting. And I don't want you to keep carrying this… us… like an extra weight."
A beat passed. Then another. The silence felt heavier than words.
"I don't know what to say," he murmured.
"You don't have to say anything," Ellie said. "I just needed to be honest with myself. And with you."
Another pause.
"I never wanted to lose you," he said quietly.
"You're not losing me," she replied, blinking away tears. "You'll always have a place in my heart. I just… I need to let you go. So you can breathe. So I can too."
There was a long silence.
And then he said the words she'd never forget.
"Someday," Ady whispered, "when the time is right for both of us… I'll find you again."
Ellie's heart cracked open. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to hold on to that hope. But she had to be strong.
"For the last time," she said softly, "I love you."
The line went quiet. The call ended. And so did something beautiful, fragile, and real.
But it didn't feel like goodbye.
It felt like closing a door they might someday open again.When the time is right.