The sky was dim with the kind of soft gray that suggested the sun was trying, but failing, to push through. It was just passed 8:00 a.m. . The air hung heavy with the scent of old books and freshly cut grass—a smell Ellie had grown to associate with the library courtyard, a quiet place she often went to when the noise inside her got too loud.
Ellie walked along the brick path slowly, her bag slung over one shoulder, earbuds in but no music playing. She wasn't ready to hear anything—not lyrics, not people, not even her own thoughts. She just wanted silence. She just wanted peace.
She didn't expect to see her.
"Ellie." The voice—low, hesitant, familiar—cut through the hum of the world like a blade.
Ellie stopped, heart stalling. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Astrid.
The name alone cracked something in her. Her fingers gripped the strap of her bag tighter, her knuckles turning pale. Slowly, she turned to face her.
Astrid stood a few feet away in a navy hoodie and jeans, her hair tied up in that careless bun Ellie used to tease her about. She looked... the same. But different. A little older. A little heavier in the eyes, like she hadn't been sleeping well either.
"Can we talk?" Astrid asked gently, as if she already knew the answer would hurt.
Ellie stared at her. A part of her screamed to run, to avoid reopening the wound she had spent months pretending had closed. But another part—deeper, buried in the part of her heart that still whispered Astrid's name in her sleep—ached for something. Closure, maybe. Or a miracle.
"What's left to say?" Ellie asked, voice steadier than she felt.
Astrid sighed and rubbed her hand through her hair, clearly frustrated with herself. "A lot. But I know you probably don't want to hear any of it."
Wrong.
Ellie wanted to hear everything. Every reason. Every excuse. Every line of regret. She wanted it all so she could finally stop waking up with phantom hopes clawing at her chest.
But she couldn't let Astrid see that. Not again.
"It won't change anything," Ellie said flatly, swallowing back the storm threatening to rise.
Astrid stepped closer. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to notice the hesitation in Ellie's breath.
"Maybe not," she admitted. "But it would mean something."
"Meaning doesn't matter when everything's already broken," Ellie replied.
Astrid flinched, and Ellie hated how much it satisfied her.
"I didn't come here to fight," Astrid said. "I just… I've been carrying this for months, Ellie. And it's killing me. The silence. The way we ended—if you can even call it an ending."
"We didn't end," Ellie said, laughing bitterly. "You walked away. No goodbye. No message. Just silence. That's not an ending, Astrid. That's abandonment."
Astrid opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, she lowered her gaze to the ground. "I didn't know how to say it."
"You didn't even try."
A beat passed. The sounds of campus life—the distant chatter of students, the rustling of trees—carried on around them like their confrontation didn't matter.
"I was scared," Astrid finally said, voice cracking. "I didn't know what I wanted. Everything felt so fast and messy, and I thought if I just had space—"
"Space?" Ellie snapped. "You didn't ask for space, Astrid. You disappeared."
Astrid's jaw trembled, and her hands clenched at her sides. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"But you did," Ellie whispered. "Over and over."
Silence settled between them, thick and suffocating.
"I know I don't deserve another chance," Astrid said quietly. "But can I at least explain?"
Ellie hesitated. Her legs wanted to walk away, but her heart stayed planted like roots dug into the dirt.
"Fine," she said at last. "Say what you came to say."
Astrid let out a slow breath, like she'd been holding it forever. "It started before we even got together," she said, her voice low, like a confession. "I was scared of how much I felt for you. Scared of what it meant. I told myself I wasn't ready for a real relationship. But then you happened. And I loved being with you—I really did—but the closer we got, the more terrified I became."
Ellie blinked, stunned. "You were scared of me?"
"No," Astrid said quickly. "I was scared of needing you."
That hurt more than it should have.
"I didn't know how to be with someone without losing myself," she continued. "So I ran. And when you called and texted… I didn't know how to answer. I didn't know what to say that wouldn't make it worse."
"So you said nothing?" Ellie asked, her voice sharp, aching. "You let me think I wasn't enough. You let me think I was the problem."
Tears welled up in Astrid's eyes. "You were never the problem. I was. I know that now."
"Then why now?" Ellie asked. "Why come back when I was finally starting to breathe again?"
"Because I never stopped thinking about you," Astrid admitted. "And because I heard you stopped playing music."
Ellie blinked, stunned. "How did you—?"
"Audrey told me. She was worried about you. Said you haven't touched your guitar in months."
Ellie swallowed hard. That part of her—her music—was sacred. And Astrid knew it.
"I thought if I showed up now, maybe I could fix something," Astrid whispered.
"You don't get to fix me," Ellie said firmly. "You don't get to walk back into my life and expect it to pick up where we left off."
Astrid nodded. "I know. I don't expect that. I just… I wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. And I wanted you to know it wasn't because I stopped loving you."
Ellie stared at her. "Don't say that."
"It's the truth."
Ellie's throat tightened. Her eyes burned.
"I don't care," she lied.
Astrid smiled sadly. "Yeah. You do."
Ellie stepped back, a single tear slipping down her cheek before she could catch it. "It's too late."
"Maybe," Astrid said. "But I'll still wait."
"Don't," Ellie whispered.
"I will anyway."
She turned and walked away then, not because she wanted to, but because if she stayed one more second, she might shatter.
And Astrid let her go this time.
But just before she rounded the corner, Ellie turned back.
Astrid was still standing there, watching her. Her face unreadable. Her eyes wide. Her hands trembling.
And Ellie knew—this wasn't closure.
This was the beginning of another heartbreak waiting to happen.
Later That Night
Ellie sat on the floor of her room, her guitar untouched beside her. She stared at her phone, Astrid's name still at the top of her call history.
Her fingers hovered above the screen.
She didn't call.
Instead, she opened her notes app and typed:
> "She says she was scared of needing me. But I needed her, too. And I didn't run."
She didn't send it. She never would.
But she saved it. Because those words were hers.
And for now, that had to be enough.
---
Somewhere Else
Astrid sat at her desk, replaying the conversation in her head over and over. She had no right to expect forgiveness. But a part of her still hoped.
She opened her phone, heart pounding, and typed out a message:
> "I know I can't fix what I broke. But I'll keep trying, even if you never read this. I'll wait. Even if you never come."
She didn't send it.
But she saved it, too.