Episode 17: The Time We Pretended We Still Had Forever
1266 Words
Two weeks.
It doesn’t sound like much.
Because it isn’t.
But when you know something is about to end—
two weeks suddenly feels like everything.
And nothing at the same time.
I got to the café earlier than usual.
Of course I did.
Because waiting there felt easier than waiting at home.
At least here, there was something familiar.
Same door.
Same table.
Same quiet hum of people who had no idea that someone’s world was slowly shifting in the corner.
I sat down.
Checked my phone.
Then checked it again.
Then forced myself to stop.
“This is pathetic,” I whispered.
“Talking to yourself already?”
I looked up.
Aidan.
Standing there.
Same expression.
Same presence.
But something about him felt… heavier.
Like the countdown was already written all over him.
“You’re late,” I said.
“I’m on time.”
“You’re three minutes late.”
“That’s still on time.”
“Not anymore.”
He paused.
Then nodded slowly.
“Yeah… not anymore.”
He sat across from me.
And for a second—
neither of us spoke.
Because suddenly—
this didn’t feel normal.
This didn’t feel like our usual.
This felt like something fragile.
Something we could break if we said the wrong thing.
“So…” he started.
“So…” I echoed.
Great.
This was going well.
“I didn’t sleep much,” he admitted.
“Me neither.”
“I kept thinking.”
“Same.”
Silence.
Then—
“This is weird,” he said.
“A little.”
“We used to talk so easily.”
“We still can.”
“Can we?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
But even I wasn’t fully convinced.
We ordered.
Out of habit.
Not hunger.
Because doing something normal felt necessary.
Like if we acted the same—
maybe things wouldn’t feel so different.
“I don’t want this to feel like a goodbye already,” he said quietly.
I stirred my drink.
“It kind of is.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“It is,” I repeated. “You said it yourself. Two weeks.”
“That doesn’t mean everything ends in two weeks.”
“No,” I said. “But it means everything changes.”
He didn’t argue.
Because he knew I was right.
“I don’t want to waste it,” he said.
I looked up.
“Waste what?”
“The time we have left.”
My chest tightened.
Left.
That word again.
“I’m not wasting it,” I said.
“Then don’t act like it’s already over.”
“I’m not acting,” I replied. “I’m being realistic.”
“And I’m trying to hold on to something that still exists.”
Silence.
Because both things were true.
And that’s what made it hard.
“What do you want these two weeks to be?” he asked.
The question caught me off guard.
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
I hesitated.
Because this felt like choosing something important.
Something final.
“I don’t want it to feel fake,” I said slowly.
“It won’t.”
“I don’t want to pretend nothing’s changing.”
“We won’t.”
“I don’t want to ignore what’s coming.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
“And I don’t want to regret anything.”
That last part came out softer.
More honest.
More dangerous.
He leaned forward slightly.
“Then don’t.”
I frowned.
“That’s not helpful.”
“It is,” he said. “If you already know what you don’t want, then do the opposite.”
“And what is that?”
He smiled faintly.
“Be honest. Stay present. Stop overthinking every moment like it’s about to end.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Not completely.”
I sighed.
“You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not,” he admitted. “But it’s better than wasting time being scared.”
We went quiet again.
But this time—
it wasn’t awkward.
It was thoughtful.
Like we were both trying to figure out how to exist in something that had an ending.
“Do you regret it?” he asked suddenly.
“What?”
“Us.”
I blinked.
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“Not even a little.”
That answer came out without hesitation.
And for once—
it felt simple.
“Good,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t either.”
He smiled slightly.
And something in my chest softened.
Just a little.
After we finished, we didn’t leave immediately.
Of course we didn’t.
We stayed.
Like we always did.
Like leaving would mean something more than just standing up.
“Let’s go somewhere,” he said.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere that isn’t here.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You’re the one who always picks this place.”
“Yeah,” he said. “But today… I don’t want to sit still.”
That made sense.
Too much sense.
“Okay,” I said.
We walked.
No destination.
No plan.
Just movement.
Because standing still felt too much like thinking.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“You thought I was annoying.”
“You were annoying.”
“I still am.”
“That’s true.”
He laughed.
And for a second—
it felt normal again.
“I didn’t think it would turn into this,” he said.
“Me neither.”
“I thought it would just be… conversations.”
“I thought it would just be temporary.”
“And now?”
I looked at him.
And for once—
I didn’t hold back.
“…Now it feels like something I’m not ready to lose.”
He stopped walking.
I stopped too.
Because suddenly—
this felt like one of those moments.
The kind that changes something.
“I don’t want to lose you either,” he said.
My heart tightened.
“Then what do we do?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Because there wasn’t a simple answer.
There never was.
“We don’t decide everything right now,” he said finally.
“That’s your solution?”
“It’s the only one I have.”
I sighed.
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s honest.”
I nodded slowly.
“Yeah… it is.”
We stood there for a moment.
Just looking at each other.
And this time—
we didn’t look away.
“You’re thinking again,” he said.
“I always think.”
“What are you thinking about?”
I hesitated.
Then—
“That this is going to hurt.”
His expression softened.
“Yeah.”
“And I’m still choosing it anyway.”
That was the truth.
The whole truth.
No filters.
No defenses.
Just… real.
He stepped closer.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant.
Just… sure.
“Me too,” he said quietly.
And then—
without overthinking—
without analyzing—
without stopping myself—
I reached for his hand.
He didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t question.
Didn’t pull away.
He just held it.
Firm.
Warm.
Real.
And for the first time since everything changed—
the silence didn’t feel heavy.
It felt…
right.
Because maybe we didn’t have forever.
Maybe we didn’t have certainty.
Maybe we didn’t have a clear ending.
But we had this moment.
This choice.
This connection.
And maybe—
just maybe—
that was enough.
For now.
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