Daniel didn't reply after that message.
Morning came, but it felt wrong—too quiet, too empty. I stared at my phone like it might change its mind and light up with his name. It didn't.
Instead, there was a message from Ethan.
Did you sleep at all?
I typed. Deleted. Typed again.
Not really.
He replied almost immediately. Meet me. Please.
I should have said no. I should have stayed home and faced the silence I'd created. But silence scared me more than confusion ever had.
We met at the same café. The one that used to feel warm. Today, it felt like a confession booth.
"You look exhausted," Ethan said softly.
"I lost someone last night," I replied.
His jaw tightened. "You didn't lose him. He walked away."
"That's worse," I whispered.
Ethan leaned back, studying me like he was trying to understand something fragile. "Do you love him?"
The question hit harder than I expected.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I just know it hurts."
"And me?" he asked.
I looked at him. Really looked. The boy who stayed when things got messy. The one who never demanded answers.
"You make me forget," I said. "But forgetting isn't the same as choosing."
Something flickered in his eyes—pain, maybe acceptance. Or maybe both.
Then my phone buzzed.
A new message.
From Daniel.
I'm leaving town for a while. I need to breathe without wondering if I'm enough.
My hands shook.
Leaving.
Ethan noticed my face change. "What happened?"
I stood up so fast my chair scraped the floor. "I need to go."
"Go where?" he asked.
"To stop myself from losing him forever."
As I rushed out into the street, one truth settled painfully in my chest:
If I didn't choose soon, love would choose for me.
And it would be ruthless.