The night after his conversation with Sarah and Lewis, Nathan couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind was flooded with images of their faces—Sarah, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and Lewis, his anger barely contained. The words they had spoken echoed in his head like a relentless drumbeat, over and over, never allowing him the peace he so desperately craved.
It had been three days since that fateful evening at the café, and Nathan had done his best to keep his distance from both of them. The space he'd asked for felt like a wall, cold and impenetrable, between him and everything he had once known. The apartment he now inhabited felt empty without Sarah's laughter and Lewis's unpredictable presence. It was a silence so loud it threatened to consume him whole.
Nathan sat on the edge of his bed, the moonlight casting long shadows across the room. His phone lay on the bedside table, the screen dark and silent. He had resisted the urge to check it, knowing that any message from Sarah or Lewis would only pull him back into the chaos. But even as he tried to avoid it, he knew he couldn't keep running forever. Sooner or later, they would come to him, and when they did, he would have to face them both—face everything that had changed.
A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. Nathan's heart raced as he stood up, almost dreading who might be on the other side. He didn't want to see anyone—least of all Sarah or Lewis—but he knew better than to ignore the reality that something had to give.
He opened the door, his breath catching when he saw who stood there.
Sarah.
Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her eyes were red-rimmed, like she hadn't slept in days. She looked fragile, worn, but there was a resolve in her posture that Nathan hadn't seen before. She wasn't here to apologize anymore. No, this time, she was here to take the next step—to make a choice.
"Sarah," he said, his voice hoarse. He didn't know what else to say, didn't know how to navigate the overwhelming emotions swirling inside him. "What are you doing here?"
She gave him a sad smile, though there was little warmth in it. "I needed to see you. We need to talk."
Nathan stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As she walked past him, the air between them felt thick—charged with all the unspoken words they had yet to exchange. Sarah sat on the couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Nathan remained standing, unsure of where to go, what to do.
Finally, he spoke, breaking the silence that had settled over them like a heavy fog. "What do you want, Sarah?"
She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice soft but firm. "I've been thinking about everything—the argument, the distance, the way things have fallen apart. And I realize that I've been selfish. I've been running from the truth, from you, from us." She paused, her eyes meeting his. "But I can't keep doing that anymore. I can't keep pretending like I'm not torn."
Nathan swallowed hard, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. "You're torn between us," he said quietly.
Sarah nodded, her eyes glistening with emotion. "I never wanted to hurt either of you. But I've hurt both of you, Nathan. And it's not fair to keep pretending that I can keep living this lie. That I can keep choosing to stay stuck in a place where I'm not being honest with myself. I've been letting this go on for too long."
Nathan closed his eyes, the weight of her words hitting him like a ton of bricks. He had known this moment was coming, but hearing her admit it out loud felt like a blow to the gut. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words were lodged in his throat. How could he fight for her when he wasn't even sure if she was fighting for him?
"I don't want to lose you, Nathan," Sarah whispered, her voice breaking. "But I don't know if I can give you what you need. I don't know if I can choose you, not when I'm so lost in everything that's happened."
Nathan felt a sharp pang in his chest at her words. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and tell her that everything would be okay—that they could fix this, that they could find their way back to each other. But something inside him told him that wasn't the truth. The truth was, they couldn't go back. Too much had changed. They were different people now—different because of the hurt, the confusion, and the betrayal that had driven them to this point.
"Then what are you saying, Sarah?" he asked, his voice raw with emotion. "Are you saying you can't choose me? That after everything, after all this time, you still can't make up your mind?"
Her eyes welled up with tears as she shook her head. "No, Nathan. It's not that simple. It's not about choosing between you and Lewis. It's about me. About finding who I am in all of this mess. I don't know who I am anymore. I've been caught in this whirlwind of emotions for so long that I've lost myself. I need to find me again before I can ever think about choosing anyone else."
Nathan stared at her, his heart heavy with a mix of frustration and understanding. He had spent so much time trying to hold on to the past, to the love they once had. But now, he realized that holding on might not be enough. Sometimes, you had to let go to heal, to move forward. And he didn't know if he was ready for that.
"I understand," Nathan said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't wait forever, Sarah. I can't keep waiting for you to figure this out."
She nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I know. And I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to lose you."
The air between them was thick with unsaid words, with all the things they had kept buried for so long. Nathan stood there, his heart heavy in his chest, as Sarah stood up to leave. As she reached the door, she turned back to face him.
"I hope you'll find happiness, Nathan," she said softly, her voice filled with regret. "I hope you'll find someone who can give you what I can't."
And with that, she left.
Nathan stood there, staring at the empty doorway, feeling the weight of her absence like a physical ache. The space between them had never felt wider, and he wasn't sure if he could bridge that gap again.
As he sat down on the couch, the silence that filled the room seemed to mock him, reminding him of everything that had slipped through his fingers. The love he had for Sarah. The bond he had with Lewis. And now, all that remained was an empty room, a broken heart, and a future uncertain.
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