Episode 18: The Days That Started to Matter Too Much
1329 Words
There’s something cruel about knowing time is limited.
Every second suddenly feels heavier.
Every word feels like it should mean more.
Every moment feels like something you’ll replay later—
over and over again.
That’s what those days became.
Not just days.
But memories in the making.
And somehow… that made everything harder.
We didn’t talk about the countdown.
Not directly.
But it was there.
In the way we stayed a little longer than usual.
In the way we didn’t rush to say goodbye.
In the way silence felt like something we didn’t want to waste anymore.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
I looked up from my notes.
Aidan was sitting across from me again, tapping his fingers lightly on the table.
“Depends,” I said. “Why?”
He leaned back slightly.
“I want to go somewhere.”
“That’s vague.”
“I know.”
“Where?”
He shrugged.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
I stared at him.
“So you’re asking me to be free… for a plan you don’t even have?”
“Yes.”
“That’s very convincing.”
He smiled.
“You’ll say yes anyway.”
I rolled my eyes.
“…Maybe.”
He laughed.
“I’ll take that.”
The next day, I found myself standing outside, waiting.
Again.
Why was I always the one waiting first?
Actually—
I knew the answer.
Because I wanted to be there.
And that realization alone was already dangerous.
“You’re early.”
I turned.
Aidan.
Walking toward me.
Same calm expression.
Same presence that somehow made everything feel… quieter.
“I’m not early,” I said.
“You’re ten minutes early.”
“That’s still not early.”
“That’s very early.”
I crossed my arms.
“You’re late.”
“I’m on time.”
“Barely.”
He smiled.
“That’s still on time.”
“So,” I said, “where are we going?”
He hesitated.
Then—
“I figured we’d just… walk.”
I blinked.
“That’s your big plan?”
“It’s a good plan.”
“That’s not a plan.”
“It is if you’re with the right person.”
I paused.
Then looked away.
“…That was smooth.”
“I try.”
“You shouldn’t.”
He laughed softly.
We walked.
No direction.
No rush.
Just… side by side.
Like we had done a hundred times before.
But this time—
it felt different.
Because now, I was aware of it.
Aware of how close he was.
Aware of how our hands kept brushing.
Aware of how I didn’t move away.
“You’re quieter today,” he said.
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Because it’s always true.”
I smiled slightly.
“Fair.”
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
I hesitated.
Because the honest answer felt too heavy.
“Nothing important,” I said.
He stopped walking.
I stopped too.
“That’s not true.”
I sighed.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make me say things I’m trying not to say.”
“Maybe you should say them.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t.”
Silence.
Then—
“Try me,” he said softly.
I looked at him.
Really looked at him.
And for a second—
I considered lying.
Keeping it light.
Keeping it easy.
But then I remembered what I said before.
No regrets.
So I didn’t lie.
“I’m thinking about how everything we’re doing right now… is temporary.”
There.
Out.
Real.
Uncomfortable.
Honest.
He didn’t respond immediately.
Didn’t interrupt.
Just listened.
So I kept going.
“I’m thinking about how I’m starting to remember things before they even end,” I said. “Like I’m already preparing to miss them.”
His expression shifted.
Just slightly.
But enough.
“And I hate that,” I added quietly.
“Why?”
“Because it makes everything feel like it’s slipping away even when it’s still here.”
Silence.
Heavy.
But not empty.
“That doesn’t mean you should stop feeling it,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I’m trying to understand it.”
“Do you have to?”
I frowned.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how I deal with things.”
He nodded slowly.
“That makes sense.”
“But maybe,” he continued, “you don’t have to understand everything right now.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Not really.”
I looked at him.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m thinking about the same thing.”
I blinked.
“You are?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
He hesitated.
Then—
“How I’m going to miss you.”
My heart stopped.
Just for a second.
But that second—
felt like everything.
“You’re not even gone yet,” I said quietly.
“I know.”
“Then why are you already thinking about that?”
“Because I don’t want to pretend it won’t happen.”
That made sense.
Too much sense.
And suddenly—
we were both standing in the same place.
Thinking the same thing.
Feeling the same fear.
“This is complicated,” I said.
“It always was.”
“No,” I corrected. “It was confusing before. Now it’s complicated.”
He smiled faintly.
“That’s an upgrade.”
“Barely.”
We started walking again.
Slower this time.
Like we weren’t trying to get anywhere.
Just trying to stay in the moment a little longer.
“Do you ever wish we met at a different time?” I asked.
He didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
I nodded.
“Me too.”
“Would it have changed anything?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
I thought about it.
Then—
“Maybe it would’ve been easier.”
“Easier doesn’t always mean better.”
I glanced at him.
“You believe that?”
“I think…” he paused, “if something matters, it’s not supposed to be easy.”
I didn’t answer.
Because part of me agreed.
And part of me wished it wasn’t true.
We reached a quiet area.
Less people.
More space.
More silence.
And for some reason—
that made everything feel louder.
“Lia.”
I looked at him.
“Hmm?”
“If I asked you something… would you answer honestly?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On the question.”
He smiled slightly.
“Fair.”
He stepped closer.
Not suddenly.
Not rushed.
Just… closer.
“Are you scared?” he asked.
I didn’t even think about it.
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
“Of this ending.”
Silence.
Then—
“Me too.”
That shared fear—
it didn’t make things easier.
But it made them real.
And somehow—
that mattered more.
We stood there.
Close.
Quiet.
Aware.
And then—
without planning it—
without thinking—
without stopping—
he reached for my hand.
This time, it didn’t feel like a question.
And it didn’t feel like a risk.
It just felt…
right.
I held his hand.
And for a moment—
everything else faded.
The countdown.
The uncertainty.
The ending.
Because in that moment—
we weren’t thinking about goodbye.
We weren’t thinking about distance.
We weren’t thinking about what comes next.
We were just there.
Together.
And maybe that was the problem.
Because the more real something feels…
the harder it is to let go of it.
And as we stood there—
hands intertwined—
hearts quietly racing—
one thought stayed in my mind.
Clear.
Unavoidable.
Terrifying.
These days weren’t just moments anymore.
They were becoming memories.
And I wasn’t ready for them to end.
- Writer
