*Episode 3: Words Left Unsaid*
425 Words
The warmth of the café did little to ease the cold settling in Nadira’s chest. She had imagined this conversation a thousand times, rehearsing what she would say if she ever saw Arga again. But now that he was here, sitting across from her, all the words she had once prepared felt meaningless.
Arga ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tapping against the table—a nervous habit she still remembered. “I should’ve explained everything back then,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Nadira scoffed, leaning back against her chair. “You think?”
He flinched slightly at the sharpness in her tone, but she didn’t care. He had left without a word, without an explanation. And now, after all this time, he was here, acting as if a simple apology could erase the past.
“I didn’t leave because I wanted to,” he continued. “There were… circumstances.”
Nadira narrowed her eyes. “Circumstances?”
Arga exhaled heavily, his grip tightening around his coffee cup. “My father was sick. I had to move back home, and things got complicated. I thought—” He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table. “I thought it would be easier for you if I just disappeared.”
A bitter laugh escaped Nadira’s lips. “Easier for me?” She shook her head in disbelief. “You didn’t even give me a chance to be there for you.”
“I know,” he admitted, his voice filled with regret. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”
Nadira’s fingers curled into fists. “That wasn’t your choice to make.”
Silence fell between them. Outside, the rain continued to pour, casting shimmering reflections on the glass window. The years apart had changed them, but some wounds still felt fresh, as if time had done nothing to heal them.
Arga finally looked up, his eyes searching hers. “Do you think we can ever move past this?”
Nadira wanted to answer immediately—to tell him no, that he had lost that chance. But something in his expression, the quiet sincerity in his voice, made her hesitate.
She glanced at the rain-streaked window, watching as the city blurred behind it. Maybe some things weren’t meant to be fixed. Maybe they were just meant to be understood.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I guess we’re about to find out.”
**To be continued…**
- Writer
