It was a Thursday evening.
The sky had gone soft with gray light, not quite rain, not quite clear. The kind of evening that made the world feel heavy, like it knew something was about to end.
I messaged him earlier that day — just a simple, "Can we talk after work?"
He replied within a minute.
Elián: Yeah. Where?
We ended up at the small park behind the building, where barely anyone went. The benches were damp from earlier rain, but I didn't care. I stood under the old acacia tree and waited, hugging my arms across my chest.
When he arrived, he looked… normal. Quiet. A little tired. He always looked like that lately.
"Hey," he said softly, stepping toward me. "You, okay?"
I nodded, even though I wasn't.
He waited, giving me space to speak. He always did that — let me take the lead when the words were hard.
"I had a dream," I finally said. "About… a past life."
He blinked. Didn't smile. I didn't joke.
"In the dream," I continued, "you were a soldier. And I was waiting for you. You died in that life… and before you left, you told me you'd find me in every lifetime."
He stayed quiet.
"And maybe you did," I said, looking down at my hands. "Maybe this was it. Maybe we were meant to find each other… just not stay."
A long pause.
When I looked up, he was staring at the ground.
"I think I loved you," I said. "In that life. And this one."
He finally looked at me — eyes softer than I'd seen them in weeks.
"But I don't think I know how to keep loving someone who doesn't know if they'll stay."
He didn't move. I didn't argue.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You don't owe me anything, Elián. We never had labels. I never asked. I said I was okay with that… and maybe I was, for a while. But now… I'm not."
His voice was low when he answered. "I thought I could give you something. Even if it wasn't everything."
"I know," I said. "And I took what you gave. I did. I don't regret any of it."
He looked away, jaw clenched, hands in his pockets like he didn't know what else to do with them.
"You're not… asking me to stay?"
"No." I shook my head. "I'm not."
I watched him nod slowly, as if he was waiting to feel more than he did.
Maybe he already knew this was coming. Maybe he'd been waiting for me to say it so he wouldn't have to.
The silence settled between us. Not heavy. Not cruel. Just… final.
He took a slow breath. "Okay."
That word crushed me more than any apology could've.
I felt something collapse in my chest — not violently, just… a quiet, inward folding.
"Take care of yourself," I said.
"You too," he whispered. "Mara…"
I looked up, hoping for some kind of softness, some flicker of the boy who once called me beautiful when I cried in the stairwell. But all I saw was a man who wasn't sure how to love me back.
"I wanted to be someone else for you," he said. "Someone better. But I'm still figuring myself out."
I nodded. "It's okay. I need to figure myself out too."
We stood there for another moment that felt both too long and not long enough. And then he stepped back, gave me one last, unreadable look — and walked away.
Not fast. Not slow. Just gone.
I didn't chase him.
I didn't cry.
I just stood there in the cool wind, watching the space he left behind
After that hard conversation with Elián, I needed to understand.
Not just what went wrong — but why it still hurt, even when it felt like the right thing.
Why love could feel so full and so empty at the same time?
So, I went to Lucia.
She opened the door as if she had been expecting me.
I didn't speak. I just sank into the chair by the window, the one that always caught the morning light.
For a long while, the room was quiet — just the wind chimes whispering their soft, metallic lullaby.
Finally, Lucia said, "Some loves return to teach. Others return to let go. But none comes by accident."
The tears I'd been holding finally fell — not loud, not desperate. Just soft and sure, like they'd been waiting for permission.
Lucia reached across the table and took my hand. "You did not lose him. You simply remembered him too soon."
And with that, something in me cracked open — not in pain, but in release.
Like a door, I'd been pressing against had finally opened inward