The Art of Letting Go

Chapter 12: The Art of Letting Go

Letting go wasn't a single moment.

It wasn't a dramatic goodbye or a final message left on read.

It was a thousand small choices she had to make every single day.

It was waking up every day and choosing not to text her.

Not because she didn't want to—but because she knew the reply might never come.

Because silence was safer than a dry "okay" or worse… nothing at all.

It was hearing her laugh in the hallway and forcing herself to keep walking.

Even when that laugh used to belong to her.

Even when someone else was the reason behind it now.

It was fighting the urge to turn around every time Nicole passed by.

Fighting the memories that clung to her like shadows—of shared secrets, of slow smiles, of that one night they almost kissed under the rain.

It was deleting old photos not out of hatred, but out of survival.

Because she couldn't breathe with those frozen memories staring back at her.

It was whispering "I'm okay" with a shaky smile, while her chest screamed the opposite.

And it was the hardest thing Erica had ever done.

Because loving Nicole? That had been easy.

It was like sunlight after days of rain.

Like breathing after drowning.

But forgetting her?

Impossible.

Because even as she tried to move on, Nicole lingered.

In songs on the radio.

In late-night dreams that left her eyes puffy the next morning.

In the scent of a familiar perfume that hit her like a punch to the gut.

In the way her friends would glance at her, trying not to mention her name—but always failing.

Letting go was not a chapter to close.

It was a wound to carry.

A ghost that refused to be buried.

And some days, she hated herself for still loving someone who didn't look back.

But she was learning.

Slowly.

Painfully.

That letting go didn't mean forgetting.

It meant choosing herself—over and over again—even when her heart still whispered Nicole's name.