Every Goodbye Sounds Like a Lie
1264 Words
“You need to breathe.”
Savannah’s voice barely cut through the ringing in my ears.
I didn’t know how long I’d been holding my breath. I hadn’t even realized we were off the rooftop until I felt the sidewalk under my feet again and the taste of cold night air in my mouth.
“I’m fine,” I whispered.
“You’re shaking.”
I looked down at my hands.
She was right.
“Come with me,” she said softly. “Just for a few minutes.”
I didn’t argue.
We walked down a quiet street near campus, not saying much. My thoughts were tangled up in everything that had just happened. Briar’s rage. Savannah’s calm. The fact that I still didn’t know who was telling the truth.
We stopped in front of a 24-hour café.
Savannah held the door open for me, and the warm scent of coffee wrapped around us like a blanket.
She ordered for both of us without asking, black tea for her, peppermint mocha for me. I didn’t question how she knew. Maybe I looked like someone who needed something soft tonight.
We sat in the far corner, tucked away from the few students in there studying or pretending to.
She finally spoke. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
I didn’t respond right away.
Then, “You think I still want to defend him?”
“I think you want to believe the best in people,” she said. “And that’s not a bad thing. But sometimes… it makes you blind.”
“I loved him.”
She nodded. “So did I.”
My eyes met hers.
And in that second, I saw the same pain in her face I’d felt for weeks in my own chest.
“Do you regret it?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “Because even if he broke me, he also taught me how to rebuild.”
The silence between us felt safe this time.
Until my phone buzzed.
I didn’t want to look.
But I did anyway.
Lyric, Are you okay? I heard what happened with Briar.
My chest tightened.
Savannah noticed. “Her?”
I nodded.
“She good to you?”
I looked away. “She confuses me.”
“Sounds like you already have enough confusion.”
I smiled faintly. “You’re not wrong.”
Another message came in.
Lyric, Please don’t shut me out again.
“Do you mind?” I asked Savannah, holding up my phone.
She shook her head. “Go.”
I stepped outside to call her.
Lyric answered on the first ring.
“Hey,” she said, and just that one word made my heart hurt.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Sort of.”
“I heard Briar lost it.”
“Yeah.”
“And you saw her. Savannah.”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
I paused. “That he’s not who I think he is.”
“And do you believe her?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But I’m starting to.”
Silence.
Then she said, “I hated seeing you torn. Between him. Between me. I wanted to pull you closer, but I felt like I was just pushing you further into your own mess.”
“I made it messy,” I said. “Not you.”
“I was scared to fall for someone who wasn’t ready to fall back,” she admitted.
“I was scared I’d fall in two directions.”
Another pause.
“You still feel pulled?” she asked.
I didn’t answer right away.
Finally, I said, “I’m not looking back anymore.”
And for the first time in days, I meant it.
Lyric let out a soft breath. “Do you want to come over?”
I closed my eyes.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I do.”
Her apartment smelled like paint and patchouli and something cinnamon that always reminded me of late nights and things we weren’t allowed to say.
She opened the door wearing a hoodie that hung off one shoulder, her hair tied up in a knot, paint smeared along one cheek.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Hey.”
I stepped inside.
She didn’t reach for me. Didn’t force anything.
Just gave me space.
And that made me want her even more.
“I’m sorry about the bar,” she said, walking toward the kitchen. “About that girl. I only kissed her because I felt like you were already gone.”
“I was never gone,” I said.
“But you were never fully here either,” she whispered.
I stepped forward, heartbeat racing. “I’m here now.”
She turned to face me, eyes searching mine.
“I don’t want to be your rebound, Solene.”
“You’re not.”
“I don’t want to be your escape.”
“You’re not.”
“I want to be something that stays.”
I reached for her hand.
“I want that too.”
And when she pulled me into her arms…
Everything else disappeared.
The past.
The guilt.
The ghost of Briar.
All I felt was her.
All I wanted was this.
Later, we lay on her couch tangled under a blanket, our legs knotted together, her fingers tracing soft circles along my arm.
“You should sleep,” she murmured.
“I don’t want to close my eyes.”
“Why?”
“Because this feels like a dream.”
She smiled against my neck. “Then don’t wake up.”
But I did.
At 3:43 a.m.
To the sound of my phone buzzing on the coffee table.
Unknown Number: You think you know everything. You don’t. Ask Savannah who deleted the police report.
I sat up fast.
“Solene?” Lyric asked, groggy. “What is it?”
I turned my screen so she could see.
She blinked.
Then whispered,
“What police report?”
Lyric’s voice sliced through the room like ice. She sat up beside me, her eyes wide, the blanket falling off her shoulder.
I stared at the screen in my hand, heart thudding in my chest like a war drum.
You think you know everything. You don’t. Ask Savannah who deleted the police report.
Anonymous.
Again.
Just like before.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Did Savannah ever mention anything like this?” she asked.
I shook my head slowly. “No. She said Briar was controlling, emotionally manipulative… but she never mentioned the police.”
“Solene.” Lyric’s voice hardened. “If there was a report, that means something happened. Something serious.”
“I need to talk to her.”
I was already halfway off the couch when Lyric grabbed my hand.
“Wait.”
“I can’t wait.”
“You shouldn’t go alone.”
“She’s not dangerous.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said, standing up and pulling on her hoodie. “You’re spiraling. And you need someone to keep you grounded. I’m coming.”
It was 4:15 a.m. when we arrived at Savannah’s off-campus apartment.
Lyric stayed behind in the car while I walked up the stairs two at a time. I wasn’t even sure she’d answer, until the door cracked open on the second knock.
Savannah stood there in flannel pants and an oversized tee, her eyes heavy with sleep.
“Solene?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “It’s the middle of the night.”
- Writer
