Nathan had always thought pain was something you could endure if you ignored it long enough. That if you buried it deep enough, it would fade, becoming nothing more than a distant memory. But standing in his empty room, staring at the moonlight filtering through his window, he knew better now.
Sarah had made her choice. And it wasn't him.
He should have expected it. Maybe, deep down, he had. But hearing her say it, watching the words settle between them like an unspoken finality, had broken something inside him. He had wanted to believe there was still a chance, that if he had just spoken sooner, things might have been different. But that was the thing about timing—sometimes, no matter how much you wished for it to be on your side, it simply wasn't.
The next few days passed in a blur. Nathan went through the motions of his life as if nothing had changed, but inside, everything had. He avoided Sarah when he could, keeping their conversations short when he couldn't. She noticed—of course, she did—but she didn't push. Maybe she thought she was giving him space, or maybe she just didn't know what to say anymore. Either way, the distance between them had never felt so vast.
Lewis, on the other hand, didn't seem to feel an ounce of guilt. If anything, he looked more at ease now than he ever had before. He didn't taunt Nathan or rub it in his face, but the silence between them was almost worse. It was as if Lewis knew he had won, and he didn't even need to say it aloud.
Nathan couldn't stand it.
One evening, after yet another restless night, he found himself walking aimlessly through town. The streets were quiet, the faint hum of distant traffic the only sound accompanying his thoughts. He didn't know where he was going; he just needed to be anywhere but home, anywhere but in the memories that haunted his mind.
His feet led him to the park—the same one where he and Sarah used to sit for hours, talking about nothing and everything. He sank onto the old wooden bench, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled a shaky breath. He had thought love was supposed to be beautiful, something that filled the empty spaces inside you. But all it had done was carve out a hollow in his chest that he wasn't sure would ever be whole again.
"Nathan?"
The voice was soft, hesitant. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Sarah.
For a moment, he considered ignoring her. Pretending he hadn't heard, pretending he wasn't there. But he was tired of pretending. So, he looked up, meeting her gaze under the dim glow of the streetlamp.
"What are you doing here?" His voice came out more bitter than he intended.
"I was looking for you." She sat beside him, leaving a small space between them. "I haven't seen you much lately."
"I've been busy."
Sarah sighed. "Nathan… please don't do this. I don't want to lose you."
He let out a humorless chuckle. "You already did."
The words hung between them, thick with the weight of everything left unsaid. Sarah flinched but didn't look away. "That's not true," she whispered. "You're my best friend. I don't want that to change."
Nathan clenched his fists. "Maybe it has to."
She reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm, but he pulled away. "Nathan, I never meant to hurt you."
"But you did," he admitted, his voice cracking under the pressure of his emotions. "And the worst part is, I don't even blame you. How could I? You don't control how you feel."
Sarah's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I never wanted to choose between you and Lewis. I never wanted it to be like this."
"But you did choose," Nathan said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And now, I have to make my own choice too."
Sarah frowned. "What do you mean?"
Nathan took a deep breath, staring at the ground. "I need time, Sarah. I need space. I can't just go back to being your best friend like nothing happened. It hurts too much."
Sarah nodded slowly, as if the realization was finally settling in. "I understand," she murmured. "But please, promise me one thing."
"What?"
"Promise me that this isn't goodbye forever."
Nathan hesitated before nodding. "I promise."
She gave him a small, sad smile. "Okay."
She stood, lingering for a moment as if waiting for him to stop her. But he didn't. He couldn't. So, she walked away, disappearing into the night, leaving Nathan alone on the bench where it had all begun.
He exhaled slowly, tilting his head back to look at the stars. Maybe, one day, he'd be able to sit here again without feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. Maybe, one day, he'd look back on all of this and be grateful for the lesson it had taught him.
But tonight, all he felt was the ache of a heart left behind.