The Bridge Between Two Countries

I come here always. This same bridge. Between two countries, between two lives. I flick the cigarette, watching it spiral down into the dark water. I wonder if I should follow.

The night is quiet, too quiet. The war doesn't touch this place, not directly, but I can feel it. Like a ghost lingering in the cold air. My hand rests on the metal railing—it's cold as fuck over here. Cold enough to remind me I'm still alive.

Today, I feel a bit different, a bit unusual. Sigh.

"I think it'll rain."

And that's when everything changed. I heard footsteps—someone. It's hard to spot a "living" human this late at night. And that's when I met her.

I turned my head, half-expecting a ghost, half-hoping for one. But she was real. A girl, standing at the other end of the bridge, hands stuffed into the pockets of an oversized jacket. The wind pushed her hair across her face, but she didn't seem to care. She looked at me like she knew me. Like she had been here before.

"You're here again," she said.

I frowned. "Do I know you?"

She shrugged. "Maybe."

"No, you don't," she immediately shrugged it off in a playful manner. "But I do watch you every day."

"So you're my stalker or something?" I said, acting unbothered, knowing what the answer was going to be.

"Nope. I've started coming to this bridge every day at this time," she replied. She kept blabbering about her job interview, how it went, her rented apartment, and her dog—the only one who lives with her.

I didn't care much. To me, she was just another stranger, someone I meet once and forget. She also mentioned that she'd never come this far to the bridge before, never even crossed it. She used to watch me from afar…

I, on the other hand, was too busy staring at the dark abyss below me.

"You always look like that."

"Like what?" I muttered, still staring down into the water.

"Like you're about to jump."

I turned to her, finally looking. She wasn't smiling anymore. The wind tugged at her jacket, but she stood firm. She didn't seem scared of the words she just said.

"And if I was?" I asked.

She thought for a moment, then shrugged again. "I dunno. Maybe I'd push you."

That caught me off guard. I almost laughed. "What?"

"Or maybe I'd pull you back." She kicked the railing with her shoe. "Depends."

"On what?"

"On if you're actually worth saving."

"I think you too know the answer," I replied nonchalantly.

I took another cigarette from the box, put it in my mouth, lit it, and started smoking again.

The rest of the time, we were just standing there, talking about nothing.

And I didn't even notice when she was gone.

It was almost morning, so I too headed my way.

---

As I reached home, I took my shoes off, threw them in a corner. The first thing I saw was my mom—she was laying on the bed as always. She'd been sick for a while now. The doctors said she didn't have much time left. And to be honest, I don't care if she dies. I can't help but think of her as a burden.

Or so I convince myself. I took my coat off and hung it on a nail I hammered into the wall. I looked into the mirror and saw a man with skin almost pale gray, dark circles under my eyes, slouched shoulders that seemed to carry the weight of the world, some hairs here and there on my cheeks and chin. I stared at my face, wiped it with a nearby curtain, and wore a shirt—the one my so-called friends gifted me on my birthday in exchange for throwing all their work up my ass.

I bought some coffee on the way, too, which was way too expensive for my standard. But I can't help it—I'm addicted. Though every time I buy it, I feel guilty. Those medications, because of those damn medications, cost me everything I earn and still aren't enough. Sometimes I think, what's the point? She's going to die anyway, whether it's in five years or ten. Who cares? I mean, I wouldn't think this way if she'd wanted to live, too.

Finally, when it was time to wake her up and give her those damn medications I've been working my ass for, I noticed something. The person who always laid on the sofa with her eyes closed wasn't breathing anymore… and just like that, my only family was gone. In an instant. Just like that. I didn't know how to feel about it. I didn't cry, but tears were running down my face. I always felt alone, but now I am.

I just sit there for hours. Staring. My hands feel like they're shaking, but I don't know why. I light another cigarette, but it doesn't calm me down like it usually does. The smoke stings my lungs, but it doesn't fill the emptiness. It's funny—how something as simple as a cigarette can fail to do its job when you need it most.

I don't call anyone. Not yet. I guess it's because what's the point? She's gone. Nothing I say is going to change that. I don't cry, but I feel tears running down my face. They're not even for her. I don't think I ever cried for her. It's just... the reality of being truly alone. The kind of alone that hits you hard and makes you wonder how you kept going this long.

I don't bother with the door. I leave it open. Not because I want someone to find her, but because I can't bring myself to close it. She's not here anymore. What's the point?

I leave. I walk out of that house, but my legs don't take me anywhere. They just carry me back to the bridge. The place where it's quiet, where I can't hear the world screaming at me. It's the only place that feels… real. Nothing else matters here. No expectations. No questions. Just me, the dark sky, and the sound of my breath. The night's cold had settled in deeper than usual, the kind that wraps itself around you and gnaws at your bones. I stood there at the edge of the bridge, staring down into the darkness, the water far below reflecting nothing but the absence of stars. The silence, that familiar quiet, was too loud in my ears. It made everything feel too heavy. I could feel my fingers twitching, the urge to just let go, to give in. For a second, I imagined what it would feel like. To fall. To let the world slip away. The sound of footsteps broke through the stillness. I didn't need to look. I already knew. It was her. I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. "Not this time," she said, her voice soft, but I could hear the determination in it. I didn't respond. My gaze remained fixed on the dark abyss below, the pull of it stronger than anything I'd felt in a long time. "You really going to do this?" she asked, standing a little further back, like she was giving me space. I didn't answer. What was there to say? The world had worn me down, and every step I took toward it felt like it was dragging me closer to the edge. She should've known that. She took a breath. "It's not worth it, you know." "Isn't it?" I muttered. The words came out before I could stop them, raw, empty, like they'd been waiting to break free. "I don't know what it's like," she said, stepping closer now, her voice quieter, almost like she was talking to herself. "But... I don't think it's worth it." I finally turned my head to look at her, and for the first time since meeting her, I saw something different in her eyes. It wasn't that playful look anymore. She wasn't making jokes. She wasn't the girl who showed up every night with her bright eyes and her light words. This was... something else. Something serious. "I didn't think you cared," I said, my voice harsh, but even I didn't believe the words. Her expression softened, like she was trying to figure out what to say. "I don't know why I come here," she said, her eyes drifting down to the water below. "Maybe because... I don't want you to be alone." I almost laughed. It wasn't funny, but the absurdity of it hit me like a punch to the gut. Alone? She had no idea what it was like to feel that. To know that no matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, you were still stuck in the same miserable loop. "Look," she said, stepping closer, her hand outstretched like she was reaching for me. "I get it. You're tired. But you don't have to do this." Something in her voice broke through, just enough for me to hesitate. For one stupid second, I thought about stepping back from the edge. But then... it was gone. That pull. The weight. Everything snapped back into place. And that was when I felt it. She grabbed my wrist. Without thinking, I twisted away, but she held on. "Let me go," I hissed, feeling the anger flare up. "Just let me go." But she didn't. She kept holding my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. "I'm not letting you go," she said, the words firm and steady, like she'd made up her mind about it. For a second, I was frozen, staring at her. I don't know what I expected from her—maybe for her to just walk away, maybe for her to say something stupid that would make everything feel more real. But she didn't. She just stood there, her hand holding mine, and for the first time, I felt like someone saw me. Even if it was just for this moment. I pulled my hand back, but her grip loosened just enough for me to stop. And she looked at me, her eyes pleading, but her voice was still steady. "You don't have to do this. Not alone. Not like this." I didn't answer her. I couldn't. The weight of it all—everything—was too much. But somehow, as I stood there, with her hand in mine, it didn't feel quite so heavy. Not yet.

I stood there, looking at her hand still loosely hanging in the air, my heart racing just a little. I didn't pull away this time. I just let it be, because for once, I didn't want to feel like I had to fight something. Anything.

The wind picked up again, carrying the smell of the river and the faint trace of something else—something that felt like an answer to a question I hadn't even asked.

"You really are a strange one," I finally said, breaking the silence between us. My voice sounded rougher than usual, like I hadn't spoken in days.

She laughed softly, a quiet, almost knowing sound. "I'm the strange one? I think you might be the one with the issues."

"Yeah, well..." I shrugged, looking away from her. "We all have our problems."

She looked at me, her gaze steady, but not unkind. "You think everyone's got problems like yours?" she asked, her tone soft but serious, like she wasn't just asking to pass the time.

I didn't answer at first. What was the point? I didn't have the energy to explain, not now.

"I'm not sure I want to talk about it," I muttered, more to myself than to her.

She nodded, taking a step back, her hands still stuffed deep in her pockets. "Fair enough. You don't have to tell me. I'm not going anywhere."

I was about to say something else when she continued, her voice catching my attention.

"You know, I don't come here just because of you," she said, her voice distant now, like she was talking more to herself than to me. "I come here because this is the only place that feels real. The only place that... makes sense. It's not about you, or me, or anyone else."

Her words lingered, like they were meant for someone else, maybe for herself, maybe for the space between us that I didn't quite understand yet.

I blinked, trying to wrap my head around what she said. "What are you talking about?"

She turned her head, looking out toward the horizon where the dark sky met the water. "I'm just tired. I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of trying to be something I'm not. Maybe that's why I keep showing up here. I don't know."

I didn't know what to say to that. For once, I didn't have a smartass comment or an insult ready to fire back. There was something in her words, something raw that hit me in a way I wasn't used to. Maybe it wasn't just me who was messed up. Maybe she was, too.

"So, what, you come here to... what? To fix things?" I asked, my voice sharper than I meant it to be.

She didn't flinch. She just shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe. I don't expect you to understand. I don't even understand it myself."

I watched her, really watched her for the first time since we met. The way her eyes weren't just staring at nothing, but seeing something deeper. The way her shoulders held a weight that didn't belong to her age. It felt like we were both just... standing there in this space between two worlds, waiting for something to happen, waiting for something to shift.

I didn't know how to respond. All I knew was that I didn't feel so alone with her standing there, not saying much but somehow saying everything at once.

"You really think I'm worth saving, huh?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

She turned her head slowly, her eyes meeting mine, and for a second, I saw something flicker in them. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was just another lie we told ourselves to get through the day.

"I don't know," she said softly. "But I think you're worth knowing."

And for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel like I was just wasting time.

The days blurred together. I kept coming back to the bridge. Every night, same time, same place. It became routine. The kind of routine that made everything feel like it was moving, even when it wasn't.

She was there more often now, standing at the other end of the bridge. Some nights we'd talk, but most of the time we just stood in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. It felt almost... necessary. Like the silence had its own rhythm, one that was more honest than anything I could say.

The months passed, and I started to notice things I hadn't before. Little things. Like the way her eyes would shift when she talked about her dog, or how her smile never quite reached her eyes. I saw the exhaustion in her face, the same way I felt it in mine. We were both carrying things we didn't talk about.

I started to feel different, but I wasn't sure if it was because of her, or because of something else. Something I couldn't quite name. But when she was there, it felt easier. Easier to breathe. Easier to just... exist.

She stopped talking about her job interviews, stopped mentioning the random things that filled her days. It was like the bridge became a place for us to forget the world outside of it, where everything else could fall away and just be quiet.

One evening, when the sky was heavy with clouds, she looked at me and said, "You don't talk much."

I shrugged, glancing down at the water. "Not much to say."

She tilted her head, studying me. "You've changed."

"I don't think so."

"You don't seem as... I don't know. Dark. You know what I mean?"

I didn't. But I didn't say that. I just looked at her and nodded. Maybe I did feel different. Maybe I didn't feel as heavy. It wasn't like I was happy or anything, but there was something... lighter about my steps. About the way I carried myself.

The night stretched on, the bridge standing between two worlds. The wind had stopped, and the air was thick with something unspoken, something that both of us were unwilling to voice.

I didn't know how to explain it, but I could feel it. Something had shifted. Something had changed. And for once, I didn't feel like I was carrying it all alone.

I didn't realize when it happened. One day, she was just there, like she always was, and the next, I couldn't stop thinking about her. It was stupid. I knew it was. I didn't want to care about her. I didn't want to feel anything, let alone... this.

But I did.

It started with the little things. The way her laugh would catch in her throat when she told a joke that wasn't even that funny. The way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when it got in her face, like it was a constant, unconscious motion. I found myself noticing her in ways I shouldn't have.

The way she walked, always with a kind of quiet confidence, like she knew exactly where she was going—even if it wasn't anywhere in particular. The way her smile softened when she talked about her dog, even though she always tried to laugh it off. It wasn't that she didn't care. It was just... the way she kept some things to herself.

And then there was the way she looked at me. It wasn't the way people looked at strangers. It wasn't pity or curiosity. It was like she saw something in me, something I didn't want anyone to see. And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was drowning in it.

It wasn't love. Not yet. But it was something. A pull. A connection. And I didn't know how to name it. I didn't want to name it. I didn't want to need anyone. But as the weeks turned into months, I started to look forward to her being there. I'd stand on the bridge, and the space between us felt a little less vast every time. She didn't need to speak. Just her presence was enough.

"Why do you come here every day?" she asked one night, her voice low, like she was asking something more than what was on the surface.

I shrugged. "Why do you?"

She looked at me for a long moment before answering. "I don't know. Maybe because it feels... real. Out here. Like I can breathe, I guess."

I nodded, understanding. I felt the same way. The bridge was the only place where things made sense, where the noise of the world didn't drown everything out.

"You don't talk much," she said again, her eyes studying me in a way that made me want to look away, but I couldn't. "But you're different now."

"Different how?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

She smiled softly, her eyes reflecting something deeper, something I wasn't ready to face. "I don't know. But I think... I think you're starting to care."

I didn't say anything to that. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was starting to care. And maybe I hated it. But that night, as I walked away from the bridge, I realized that I didn't want to be alone anymore. I didn't want to feel like I was waiting for something to end. I wanted to keep feeling this, even if it scared me.

So, I kept coming back. Every night. Same time. Same place.

And she was there too. Every time.

The bridge had become our place. It was where we existed outside of the world. Some nights, we'd just stand there in silence, letting the wind carry our thoughts. The quiet between us wasn't uncomfortable, and I think we both preferred it that way. Words weren't necessary, not for me anyway. I could stand there, just breathing the same air as her, and that was enough.

But tonight was different.

She was sitting on the edge of the bridge, legs dangling over the side, her eyes focused on the dark water below. I don't know why, but I couldn't stop looking at her. There was something about the way she sat there, shoulders slumped, like she was carrying a weight, even though she'd never show it.

I stood next to her for a while, waiting for her to speak first, but she didn't. The silence stretched on, until finally, she broke it.

"My dog died."

I glanced at her, not sure what to say. She didn't seem sad. She just stared ahead, her face unreadable. "I'm sorry," I muttered, but it felt like empty words.

She shrugged, like it didn't matter. "It's fine. She had a good life. It was just time, you know?"

I nodded, though I couldn't wrap my mind around it. I knew the pain of losing someone, but a dog? It felt... different. Maybe because she didn't seem to feel it the way I thought she should. She wasn't crying. She wasn't even angry. She was just... calm.

"And you're not upset?" I asked, because I needed to understand. I didn't know how to process this. I didn't know how to process her.

She shook her head. "No. I mean... it hurts, sure. But it's not like she's gone forever. Not in my mind."

Her voice was soft, almost distant, like she was talking about something that had happened a long time ago, even though it had only been days.

There was a long pause before she continued. "I'm getting married soon."

It hit me like a cold wave. "Married?" The word felt strange coming from her. Married? To who?

She laughed, a soft, bitter sound that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. It's complicated, but... I've been with him for a while now. I don't know. It's just... what's next, you know?"

I didn't know. I didn't know what it meant to move forward with someone, to build a life. But I could see the way she said it, how she didn't seem all that excited or hopeful about it. More like it was a step she had to take, one that didn't make her feel any more alive, just... something she had to do.

I stood there, quiet, not knowing what to say. I felt this strange pull inside me. She was telling me all this, and I had no idea why, but it felt like she needed to. And maybe... maybe she trusted me with it. That thought made something twist in my chest.

Her voice broke the silence again. "The thing is," she said, looking over at me, "I'm not really sad about my dog. Not anymore. I mean... I should be, right? But I just can't bring myself to feel anything about it. I guess I'm just... too busy thinking about other things."

And that was the moment I realized it. She wasn't running from her feelings. She was just... so tired. Tired of losing, tired of pretending, tired of all the things life expected of her. I didn't know why, but I felt that same tiredness in me, too.

"So you're getting married," I said, my voice thick with something I couldn't name. "But you're not happy about it."

She smiled, but it was like the smile didn't belong to her. "I don't know if happy is the right word. But yeah... I guess it's just what's next. We do the things we're supposed to do, right?"

I didn't have an answer to that. I didn't even know what "doing the things we're supposed to do" really meant. All I knew was that this moment, her words, the way she looked at me... it made me realize how much I wanted to be something else. Something better than what I was.

But I didn't say anything else. Not tonight.

She stood up, dusting off her pants, and without saying anything more, started walking toward the other side of the bridge.

"See you tomorrow," she said, without looking back.

I stood there, feeling like the weight of her words had pressed against me in ways I didn't know how to deal with. But I knew one thing for sure. I couldn't stop coming back to this place. I couldn't stop coming back to her.

So I waited, just like I always did, for the next day. For the next conversation. For the next time she'd make me feel something I wasn't sure I wanted to feel.

I don't know how long it's been. Days? Weeks? Months? The time starts to blend together when you stop paying attention to it. But what I do know is that something inside me... shifted. It's not that I suddenly found meaning in anything. It's not like I woke up one day and decided to care. But somewhere, somehow, I started accepting the things I couldn't change.

The bridge had become more than just a place for me. It wasn't just where I went to think about ending it all. It wasn't just the place where everything felt like it was falling apart. It was... home. The cold air, the dark water below, the echo of my footsteps—those things, they started feeling familiar. They started feeling like part of me.

And her? She was there, too. Sometimes, she would talk about her wedding, her dog, her life. Other times, we wouldn't say anything at all. We just stood there, staring into the abyss. But somehow, it didn't feel as heavy as it used to.

I think, for the first time in a long time, I was starting to understand what it was like to live for someone else. Even if I didn't know what tomorrow would bring, I could at least stand here, with her, in the moment. That was enough for me.

Tonight was different though. I didn't expect her to show up. I didn't expect anything at all. I had been standing there for what felt like hours, staring into the dark waters, smoking a cigarette like I always did. But tonight, there was something about the stillness.

Maybe it was the way the wind had died down. Or maybe it was just the weight of everything that had happened. But for the first time, I felt like I had nothing left to fight. No more reasons to stay or go. I had already made my peace with all of it, and maybe that's why I wasn't so angry anymore.

I don't know if it was a shift in me or just the exhaustion of existing. Either way, I felt it. The thing I had been avoiding for so long—the acceptance. It wasn't about wanting to die anymore. It wasn't about feeling like I was trapped. I had simply reached a point where I didn't care anymore.

"I'm not going to jump," I muttered to myself, the words coming out like a confession. "Not tonight."

The thought didn't make me feel better, but it didn't make me feel worse, either. It was just there. Like a truth I had finally stopped trying to fight.

And then, I heard footsteps. Soft ones, slow. And I knew.

She was here.

She stepped up next to me, her presence familiar, like a part of the scenery now. I didn't look at her, but I felt her standing beside me.

"You look different tonight," she said, voice low, not looking at me either. Her gaze was on the water, just like mine.

I didn't answer at first. I couldn't figure out how to put what I was feeling into words.

Finally, I turned to her. "I think I'm done," I said, the words tasting strange in my mouth. "Done with all of it. The fighting. The wanting. The... dying."

She looked at me then, really looked at me. Her eyes, dark like the sky above, held something in them. Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was understanding. But I saw it, just for a second. And then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"You think you've got it all figured out now?" she asked, but there was no judgment in her voice. No sarcasm. Just... curiosity.

I shrugged. "No. But I don't care anymore."

She was quiet for a while. It was a different kind of silence this time. Not the heavy silence that weighed on me. Not the silence that made me question everything I knew. This one felt lighter. Like we were both letting go of something at the same time.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," I admitted, more to the air than to her.

She smiled, but it was small, like she knew something I didn't. "You just... keep going. It's all you can do. And sometimes, that's enough."

I didn't answer. I didn't need to. The truth was, I wasn't sure I knew what I was supposed to do either. But maybe that was okay. Maybe it was okay not to have it all figured out.

I stayed there with her for a while, just existing. And for the first time, it didn't feel like I was waiting for something to change. It just... was.

I keep showing up. Every night. Like clockwork. The bridge. The water. The cold air that bites at my skin. It's like muscle memory now. The one thing I do without thinking. The one place I go when I have no other place to be.

But something's different.

She's not here.

It's been weeks since she last showed up. I don't know why I expected her to keep coming, to keep showing up like she always did. Maybe I was fooling myself, thinking that there was something here, something worth waiting for. But the truth is, I don't know what I was expecting. I don't know what I was hoping for.

Still, I wait.

I stand on the bridge, cigarette between my fingers, the embers glowing faintly in the dark. The smoke rises up, mixing with the cold night air. I don't know why I keep coming back. It's not like she owes me anything. It's not like she has to be here. I don't even know why I care anymore.

But every night, I wait. Even though I know she won't show up. Even though I know it's just me and the dark.

I think about her sometimes. The way she'd talk about her dog, her job, her wedding. How she always seemed so certain about things, about life. She had this way of making everything feel... temporary. Like it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. And maybe that was what made her so different from me. She didn't care about the same things I did. She didn't get caught up in all the shit that weighed me down.

But I don't know where she's gone. I don't know why she stopped coming, and I don't know if I'll ever see her again. I don't even know if I want to.

I'm not sure what I want anymore.

I'm still here. The same bridge, the same empty space between two worlds. The silence presses in around me, but it doesn't feel as suffocating as it used to. It feels... normal now. Like I've learned to exist in it.

And yet, I can't shake the feeling that something is missing. That somehow, without her, the nights are colder. The water below seems darker. I don't know how to explain it. Maybe it's the absence of her voice, or the way she used to stand there beside me, like she didn't need to say anything to make the world feel less alone. Maybe I just miss the way she made everything feel a little less heavy.

But the truth is, I'm just... waiting.

Waiting for something that will never come.

It's funny, isn't it? How easy it is to get used to something you never thought you could. How you can start to miss it, even when it was never yours to begin with.

The wind picks up, tugging at my jacket, the cool air cutting through the thin fabric. I stand there, my back against the railing, and I watch the water ripple beneath me. I take another drag from my cigarette, watching the orange glow flare up before the smoke fades into the night.

I can't help but wonder if she's out there somewhere. If she's moved on. Or if she's waiting for me too. But the truth is, I know I'll never know. I know she's gone. And all that's left is me.

I take one last drag of the cigarette, flick the butt into the dark, and walk away.

And yet, I'll come back tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.

Because that's all I know how to do. Keep showing up.

Even when there's no one left to meet.

It's been months since she disappeared. Since she stopped showing up.

But still, I come. Every night. I show up like clockwork, because that's the only thing that hasn't changed. The only thing that feels real anymore.

I wait at the bridge. The same old place. Same old night. The cold wind gnaws at me like it always does. The world around me is still—too still. There's nothing here. There's no reason for me to be here. But somehow, I can't bring myself to leave.

I don't know why I keep doing it. Why I keep showing up, hoping she'll be here, hoping that one day, when I turn around, she'll be standing at the other end, her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets like always, that same lazy smile on her face.

But it never happens. She's never there.

I stare out over the dark water below. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. But I can't stop coming back.

The place has become too familiar now. Too much a part of me. The sound of the wind, the taste of the cold air in my mouth. The way the water ripples beneath me. It's all I have left. The place where I can stand and pretend for a few minutes that maybe, just maybe, I'm not completely alone.

I can't help but think back to what she said to me that first night. How she told me that she would push me if I ever tried to jump. Or maybe pull me back. I laugh at it now, the thought of her standing there beside me, trying to stop me, saving me.

It's all so distant now. Just a memory. A ghost of something I never really understood.

I don't know if she was ever real. I don't know if I imagined it all—the way she seemed to understand me, the way she could make everything feel like it didn't matter. But then again, does it matter? Nothing matters anymore. Not the bridge. Not her. Not the stupid hope I cling to.

Still, I wait. Because what else is there to do?

Maybe she'll show up. Maybe she won't. But I'm still here. Waiting.

And that's all I know how to do.

Wait for someone to show up.

Wait for something to change.

But all that's left now is the silence and the sound of my own breath.

Five years.

Five fucking years, and I'm still here. Same place. Same time. Same damn routine.

The wind hasn't changed. The water beneath the bridge still ripples the same way. Everything's the same, except for one thing.

She never came back.

I remember the days when I used to wait for her, when I'd stand here, half expecting her to show up, half not believing she would. But I waited anyway. And every night, she didn't come. Each time, a little more of the hope I had left drained away. The first couple years, I was still holding on to some sliver of belief that maybe she'd be here. I'd look around every time I heard footsteps. But now?

Now I don't look for her anymore.

The people I used to know, they're all gone too. Not that I care. They're just faces that passed by, just like everything else. The only thing that hasn't passed by is the bridge. And me. Still here.

It's not even about her anymore. Not really. It's about the emptiness that hangs around me like a fog I can't shake. The loneliness. The weight of it. It presses down harder now. I feel like I'm suffocating, like the air's too thick to breathe.

I've stopped smoking. Don't need the cigarettes to remind me how empty things are. And yet, I can't stop coming here. Because it's the only place where I feel something. Anything.

I can't help but wonder if I'm a fool. All these years, waiting for a person who never cared. For someone who probably never existed in the first place. It doesn't matter now. None of it matters.

Still, I come. I show up every night, because there's nowhere else to go. No other place that feels like it could matter.

It's all a joke. A stupid, fucking joke.

But I'm here. Every night. The same spot. The same bridge.

And I wait.

But she never comes.

And I wonder if I'll be here forever.

I've made up my mind.

I've been waiting, hoping, living in this endless loop of waiting for something that won't come. I've let go of whatever stupid hope I held onto. It doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore.

The war's over, but the battle I've been fighting inside me? That's never ended. It's not even a fight anymore. It's just a slow, suffocating surrender.

I step to the edge of the bridge, my feet resting on the metal railing. The wind's sharp, biting at my skin, but I don't feel it. It's like everything's numb now. My mind. My body. Everything's empty.

I'm not even looking at the water below. I don't need to. I've already seen it. I've already felt it.

I close my eyes for a moment, letting the quiet of the night wrap around me. For once, I don't care. For once, I don't give a shit about anything.

Then...

I feel it.

A force. A push.

I don't even need to turn around to know who it is.

She's here.

"Maybe I'll push you," she said once.

And now she has. She's behind me, her presence unmistakable, her hand on my back, the weight of it real. But the thing is... I'm not scared. I'm not fighting. Not this time. I've been waiting for this. Waiting for the end.

I turn, mid-fall, as the world starts to twist around me.

And there she is.

Her silhouette, the same one I've been waiting for, the one that never showed up. The one who's been absent all these years. And now, here she is. In front of me. Falling with me.

She's smiling. She's not afraid. Neither am I.

And just like that, the weight of everything lifts. The noise in my head quiets. It all fades to nothing, the world, the bridge, everything. It's just us, falling together.

I close my eyes as the air rushes past. I feel peace.

And then, as my body hurtles downward, my final thought is a simple one. A realization.

We never crossed the bridge. We never visited the other country.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the point all along.

And then, everything goes dark.

The end.