That Should've Been Me

Kafka's shoulders shook with each breath, and when she heard another soft, stifled sob escape him, something in her chest tightened painfully.

She had imagined this moment so differently.

She had imagined herself breaking down, maybe even slapping him for making her feel like she wasn't worth chasing after. She had imagined him being the one to comfort her—to hold her gently, to whisper reassurances that she was precious to him, that he would never let her go.

But instead—

Instead, he was the one sobbing.

He was the one clutching onto her like he was afraid of losing her.

Camila had no idea what to do.

"…Kafka?" She whispered hesitantly, her voice barely above a breath.

He didn't respond.

He just pressed his face deeper into her shoulder, his body shaking slightly as another choked sob wracked through him.

Seeing him like this...hearing him like this...it was too much.

She couldn't take it anymore.