What We Couldn't Be

Chapter Two; Walking Through Memories

We ended up at a small bench in a square lit by fairy lights. I leaned back, watching the drops fall off the leaves above us.

“I really missed this,” I said. Holding his hands tight with a little movement “Just... being near you.”

Noah nodded slowly. “Me too.”

Silence stretched between us again, this time thick with things we had never said.

“Why did we break up, really?” he asked softly.

I looked at him, surprised. “You know why.”

I know what we told each other. But it’s different now. We are not those people anymore.

I exhaled slowly. Because I wanted the world. And you wanted something quieter.

You called it fear back then.

It was, I admitted. I was terrified of being still. Of becoming someone who only existed in someone else’s life.

“I never asked you to stay,” he said.

I know. But you didn’t follow me either.

That silence again too loud, too honest.

“I thought maybe you would,” I added.

“I waited,” he said. “I thought you’d come back.”

My eyes softened. “And I thought if I came back, it would mean I failed.”

“That’s the tragedy, isn’t it?” he said with a bitter smile. “We both waited for the other.”

The words lingered in the air like breath on cold glass.

He looked down at his hands. “Do you ever wonder?”

“All the time.”

We sat there, just like two people shaped by a love that never had a proper ending, surrounded by a city that didn’t know our names.

The rain had finally stopped, leaving the city washed and quiet. Noah And I found ourselves at a tiny bar tucked beneath an old archway. The windows were fogged, the lights dim. Inside, it was nearly empty, just a bartender polishing glasses and a few scattered patrons murmuring over wine.

We sat at the back, nursing drinks that we barely touched. A quiet jazz song played from a record player that crackled between notes.

I ran my finger around the rim of my glass. “Did you love me?” I asked, my voice was barely above a whisper.

Noah looked at me like I had asked if the sky had ever been blue.

“Of course I did.”

I nodded slowly, not looking at him. “I mean... I know. But I guess I’ve always wondered how much.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, searching for my eyes. “Enough to remember every version of you. Enough to hate myself when I let you go.”

“You didn’t let me go, Noah, I left.”

“I didn’t stop you.”

I bit my lips, blinking quickly. “You weren’t supposed to. I had to figure out who I was. And I needed to do that alone.”

“And did you?”

I looked out the window, where a thin mist hung in the air like a secret. “Eventually.”

He took a slow sip from his glass. “I kept your letters.”

I turned back to him and asked “What letters?”

“The ones you never sent. You used to write them and leave them half-finished in your notebook. I found them once. After you left.”

“You read them?”

“I memorized them.” Noah said with a stern face of seriousness and certainty.

“I wanted you to chase me,” I admitted. “I wanted you to show up at the airport and say you couldn’t live without me.”

“I thought you wanted freedom.” Noah responded with curiosity in search of answers.

“I did, But I didn’t know it would be so lonely.” At this point my heart was filled with regrets, tears filled my eyes as I struggled, blinking my eyes not to let them flow down my face.

He reached across the table and held my hands. It was warm and Familiar.

“I used to think,” he said carefully, “that love should be easy. That if it was right, it wouldn’t feel so much like drowning sometimes.”

“But maybe it always does,” I replied with a crackly, shaky voice, as I tried not to break down crying.

We sat like that, fingers linked, drinks forgotten, surrounded by soft music and shared regrets.

Then I pulled away gently. “You’re getting married, Noah.”

He nodded, eyes clouded. “Some months from now,” he added while blinking his eyes.

“She’s good to you?” I enquired with a calm but concerned voice.

“She is Kind, Steady. And I love her... in a way that makes sense.”

“But not like us.” I said while gently moving the glass cup on the table.

“No,” he whispered. “Not like us.”

I swallowed the ache. “Then marry her. Be happy. You deserve that.” I said as I looked at him in the face, trying to stare right into his eyes.

He looked at me, as if trying to burn me into memory one last time.

“And what about you?”. “What do you deserve?” Noah asked as he tried to reposition and focus on the conversation.

I smiled, not quite sad but not happy either. “Maybe just this, a night to remember we were real.”

Tears filled my eyes, I tried to have it controlled but couldn't help it, I ran as fast as I could to a room in the bar and shot the door behind me.

Noah hurriedly followed me, I had already shut the door before he could come any close! Come on Elise, he called out loud his voice echoed through the door but I didn't respond to him.