Reality hit me like a sudden drop.
One second, his hand was still wrapped around mine—warm, familiar, dangerous—and the next, my chest tightened with a sharp, aching clarity.
This wasn't peace.
It was a pause.
And pauses end.
Slowly, I loosened my fingers.
Keifer noticed immediately.
"Jay—" His grip tightened, instinctive, almost panicked. "Wait."
I shook my head, barely.
"I can't," I whispered.
His hand trembled against mine, like he was holding onto the last solid thing in a world that was already slipping away.
"Please," he said, stepping closer. "Just—don't walk away. Not again."
I looked at him then. Really looked.
His eyes were red, glassy, nothing like the confident boy who once ruled every room he entered. His shoulders were tense, breath uneven, like he was barely holding himself together.
"I'm sorry," he said again, the words breaking apart as they left his mouth. "I should've protected you. I should've chosen you every time. I didn't—and I hate myself for it."
My chest burned.
"I loved you," he whispered, voice cracking. "I still do."
Then his voice failed him completely.
Tears spilled over, unchecked, sliding down his face as his head bowed slightly, like the weight of everything he'd buried was finally too much.
"I've regretted it every single day," he said hoarsely. "Losing you… it destroyed me."
Seeing Keifer cry—really cry—felt unreal.
This was the boy who never begged. Never broke. Never showed weakness.
And here he was, unraveling in front of me.
My heart twisted painfully.
I wanted to reach for him.
To pull him into my arms.
To tell him everything would be okay.
But that was the old me.
"I didn't leave you, Keifer," I said quietly.
He looked up, hope flashing weakly in his eyes.
"You taught me how to live without you."
The words landed between us like something breaking.
His breath hitched.
I gently pulled my hand free from his grasp, one finger at a time. Not harsh. Not angry.
Final.
"I know you're sorry," I continued, my voice steady even as my chest ached. "And maybe you mean it. But apologies don't erase what I went through. They don't undo the nights I spent convincing myself not to wait for you."
A tear slipped down my cheek, but I wiped it away immediately.
"I had to rebuild myself without you," I said. "And I won't destroy that… not even for you."
Keifer's shoulders sagged.
"I'm not saying I don't feel anything," I whispered. "I'm saying I can't lose myself again."
I took a step back.
Then another.
"I hope you heal," I said softly. "But not at the cost of me."
And before my resolve could crumble, I turned and walked away.
Keifer
He didn't follow.
He couldn't.
The sound of her footsteps faded, each one cutting deeper than the last. The space she left behind felt unbearably empty, like the air itself had been ripped away.
Keifer's chest constricted violently.
This wasn't anger.
This was finality.
His knees gave out.
He stumbled back against the railing, hands gripping the cold metal as his breath shattered. A broken sound tore from his throat as he bowed his head, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into nothing.
The city lights blurred as tears poured freely now, raw and humiliating and real. He dragged a hand over his face, but it didn't help. The pain was everywhere—his chest, his throat, his bones.
He had waited too long.
He had hurt her too deeply.
And now she was gone—not because she hated him, but because she had learned how to survive without him.
That realization crushed him.
For the first time, Keifer understood the truth he'd been avoiding for years:
Loving her wasn't enough.
And he might have already lost her forever.
Jay
Later that night, I closed my bedroom door.
The click echoed softly.
That was all it took.
I slid down against the door, my strength collapsing instantly. My breath came apart in quiet, uneven gasps as I pressed my hands to my face.
The tears came fast this time.
Hot. Relentless.
I cried silently, shoulders shaking, heart breaking open in a way I hadn't allowed myself to feel in so long.
I cried for the girl who believed love was enough.
For the nights I waited.
For the version of Keifer I once trusted with everything.
"I loved you," I whispered to the empty room. "I really did."
The sob tore out of me then—raw, ugly, honest.
I hugged my knees, letting myself feel it all at once. The grief. The longing. The relief.
Because beneath the pain, there was something else.
Strength.
I wiped my face slowly, breathing through the ache in my chest.
Walking away didn't mean I felt nothing.
It meant I finally chose myself.
And tonight—just tonight—I let myself cry for what could've been.
Tomorrow, I would stand again.