Goodbye

A few days passed in a haze, and despite Mia's gentle warmth and understanding, there was a tension hanging between us that I couldn't ignore. I tried to be present with her, to shake off the thoughts of Jordan that kept pulling me back, but it felt like I was forcing myself to fit into a mold I'd outgrown.

Mia seemed to notice. She had a quiet strength, a kindness that made me feel like I could be open with her, but even that wasn't enough to quell the growing divide between us. We both sensed it—an invisible wall that neither of us could breach. I'd tried so hard to convince myself that this was what I needed, that Mia was the one who could help me move forward. But I could see in her eyes that she was starting to doubt it, too.

One evening, as we were sitting together in her apartment, the silence stretched on, heavy and loaded. She was watching me, a look of quiet contemplation on her face, and I could feel that she had something on her mind. Finally, she took a deep breath, and her voice came out soft but steady.

"Avery, I think we need to talk."

I felt my stomach twist. I knew where this was going, and yet, I wasn't prepared to face it. I nodded, meeting her gaze, bracing myself for the words I knew were coming.

"Avery, I care about you so much," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "and I wanted… I wanted so badly for this to work. I thought maybe if I was patient, if I gave you enough space, you'd come around. That you'd really be here with me."

She paused, and I saw the flicker of sadness in her eyes. It was painful, seeing the hurt I'd caused her reflected back at me.

"But… you're always somewhere else," she continued, her voice breaking a little. "When we're together, it feels like I only have half of you. And it hurts, Avery. I don't want to wake up five years from now, resenting you because I convinced myself I could change your mind, that I could be the one to make you forget about him."

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat. I wanted to tell her that I cared, that I was trying, but I knew that wasn't fair. She deserved honesty, and the truth was, I hadn't been present with her the way she needed me to be. I had clung to her, hoping she would be the antidote to the confusion and ache inside me, but all I had done was prolong her pain.

"I'm so sorry, Mia," I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper. "You don't deserve this. You deserve someone who can be there with you fully, who isn't holding onto something else."

She smiled sadly, reaching out to take my hand. "I know you tried, Avery. And I appreciate that. But you don't have to force yourself to be someone you're not, for my sake. I just… I can't be the person waiting around, hoping you'll eventually choose me. That's not fair to either of us."

I nodded, the weight of her words sinking deep. She was right. I had been selfish, holding onto her, hoping she could help me forget Jordan, to fill the void that he'd left behind. But love didn't work like that, and Mia deserved more than to be a placeholder in my heart.

She stood up, her expression resolute. "I think it's best if we say goodbye, Avery. I don't want to hate you someday because I held on too long. And I don't want you to feel guilty for something that isn't your fault."

Her words were gentle, but the finality in them left no room for argument. I felt a deep, hollow ache in my chest, not just for the end of whatever we'd had, but for the person I had unintentionally hurt in my attempt to move forward. I watched as she gathered her things, taking her time as she processed the end of what we'd tried to build.

As she turned to leave, she paused, looking back at me one last time. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Avery. And I hope that someday, you can let go of whatever it is that's holding you back."

With that, she left, the door closing softly behind her, and I was alone with the silence and the reality of my choices.