Time had a strange way of healing wounds. Or maybe it just buried them deeper, until they weren't visible to the eye but still present, festering beneath the surface. Nathan wasn't sure which was true, but he was starting to realize that he couldn't keep running from what had happened. He couldn't keep pretending that things hadn't changed, that he hadn't changed.
It had been two weeks since the conversation in the bookstore, and Nathan had done his best to keep his distance from Sarah. He still thought about her, of course—how could he not? She had been a constant in his life for so long, but now, she felt like a ghost, a presence he could no longer touch, no longer rely on.
He tried to focus on his work, on the things that used to keep him occupied. He took on new projects, threw himself into them with a vigor that almost felt like a distraction. But even when he was busy, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to Sarah, to what they had been, to what they could never be again.
He hadn't spoken to her since their meeting in the bookstore, and part of him was relieved. He didn't know what to say to her anymore. He didn't know how to fix something that felt so broken. And yet, there were times—late at night, when he couldn't sleep—that he wondered if he had made the right choice. Maybe there was a way to salvage their friendship, to rebuild what had been lost.
But then he remembered Lewis.
And that memory twisted something deep inside him.
Lewis had always been a part of their group, a third wheel in their little trio. But somewhere along the way, it had become more than that. Nathan had watched as Sarah grew closer to him, as their bond strengthened in ways Nathan couldn't ignore. It had happened slowly, almost imperceptibly, until one day it was clear: Sarah had chosen Lewis. And Nathan? He was left standing on the sidelines, unsure of where he fit in anymore.
One afternoon, as Nathan walked through the city streets, trying to clear his head, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, expecting a work email or a message from one of his clients, but when he saw the name on the screen, his heart skipped a beat.
Sarah.
He stared at the message for a moment, unsure of what to do. He wanted to ignore it, to keep the distance between them intact. But curiosity got the better of him.
Hey, Nathan. I've been thinking about you. I miss our conversations. Can we talk?
He frowned. Miss our conversations? It seemed so simple, so innocent, but it cut right through him. He wasn't sure if he could handle another conversation like the one they'd had in the bookstore. And yet, something in her words made him pause. He missed talking to her too, more than he cared to admit.
Where? he typed back, his fingers trembling slightly.
There's a new café near the park. I thought maybe we could meet there?
Nathan hesitated for a long moment before responding. Fine. In an hour.
---
When Nathan arrived at the café, he saw her sitting at a small table by the window, a cup of coffee in front of her, her fingers tracing the rim absentmindedly. She looked the same—still beautiful, still the girl who had once been his best friend. But there was something different about her now, something guarded in the way she held herself, something that told him she was no longer the person he had known.
She looked up when he entered, her expression softening just slightly. "Hey," she greeted him, her voice quieter than usual.
"Hey," Nathan replied, sitting down across from her. The silence between them was thick, heavier than it had been the last time they'd spoken. Neither of them seemed to know where to start.
After a long pause, Sarah spoke again. "I know things have been weird between us. I just... I want to be honest with you, Nathan. I don't want you to think I've forgotten about you."
Nathan met her gaze, his heart pounding. "I never thought you forgot about me. But things are different now. We can't go back to how things were."
"I know," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I've been thinking about that a lot. And I don't know if I can fix what's been broken, but I wanted you to know that I'm sorry for hurting you."
Nathan felt the sting of her words, but he forced himself to stay calm. "I don't think you can fix it, Sarah. I don't think it's something that can be fixed. But I'm glad you're sorry. I just... I need time to figure out where I fit in all of this."
"I get that," she whispered, her eyes downcast. "And I don't expect everything to be okay overnight. But I need you to know that I still care about you, Nathan. I always will."
Her words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, he felt the weight of everything they had been. He wanted to believe her, wanted to think that they could figure things out. But deep down, he knew it wasn't that simple.
"I care about you too, Sarah," he said, his voice tight. "But I need to be okay on my own first. I can't keep pretending that nothing's changed."
She nodded slowly, her lips trembling as if she were holding back tears. "I understand," she whispered.
Nathan stood up, his chest heavy. "Take care of yourself, Sarah. And maybe... maybe we can talk again when I'm ready."
She stood as well, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I hope so," she said softly, before turning and walking away, leaving Nathan standing alone in the café, the silence between them now more deafening than ever.
As he stepped out into the cool evening air, Nathan couldn't help but wonder if this was the end. Not just of their relationship, but of everything they had built. Maybe it was time to finally let go, to stop hoping for a future that no longer seemed possible.
But even as he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that some part of him would always be waiting for her. And in the quiet of his heart, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—someday, they'd find their way back to each other.