Episode 19: The Night Everything Became Real
1353 Words
There’s a moment when everything stops feeling like a possibility…
and starts feeling like something you can lose.
Not “maybe.”
Not “what if.”
Not “someday.”
But real.
Too real.
That’s the night everything changed.
It started quietly.
Like most important moments do.
“Come with me.”
I looked up from my phone.
Aidan was standing in front of me, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
“To where?” I asked.
He shook his head slightly.
“Just come.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s enough.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“You’re being suspicious again.”
“You still came.”
“…That’s not the point.”
He smiled faintly.
“But it is.”
We walked.
Of course we did.
It was becoming our thing.
Walking with no destination, like we were trying to outrun something we both knew was catching up anyway.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked.
“Eventually.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“You’re still here.”
I sighed.
“You’re impossible.”
“You like me anyway.”
I didn’t answer.
Because silence was easier than admitting the truth.
We ended up somewhere unfamiliar.
A quiet rooftop.
Not too high.
Not too crowded.
Just enough to see the city lights without feeling like we were part of the noise.
I looked around.
“…Okay, this is actually nice.”
“I know.”
“You planned this?”
“A little.”
I crossed my arms.
“You said you didn’t have a plan.”
“I lied.”
“I knew it.”
We sat down.
Side by side.
Close.
Not touching.
But close enough to feel it.
The space between us felt smaller than usual.
Or maybe—
I just noticed it more.
“It’s quiet,” I said.
“That’s the point.”
I nodded.
“Why here?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then—
“Because I didn’t want distractions.”
My chest tightened.
That sounded important.
“For what?” I asked.
He looked at me.
Really looked.
And suddenly—
I knew.
Before he even said it.
“I don’t want to leave things unsaid,” he said quietly.
There it was.
The moment.
The one I knew was coming.
The one I wasn’t ready for.
“You’re leaving in a few days,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“That hasn’t changed.”
“No.”
Silence.
Then—
“Neither has this,” he added.
I looked at him.
“What is this?”
He didn’t hesitate this time.
“This… is you being the person I think about first.”
My breath caught.
“This is you being the person I look for in every room.”
I didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
“This is you being the one I don’t want to say goodbye to.”
My chest felt tight.
Too tight.
Like something inside me was about to spill over.
“You don’t get to say things like that,” I whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re leaving.”
“That doesn’t make it less true.”
“It makes it harder.”
“I know.”
Silence fell between us again.
But this time—
it wasn’t uncertain.
It wasn’t confused.
It was clear.
Too clear.
“You should’ve told me earlier,” I said.
“I know.”
“Maybe things would’ve been different.”
“Maybe.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
I looked away.
At the city lights.
At anything that wasn’t him.
Because looking at him made everything feel heavier.
More real.
More impossible.
“Lia.”
I closed my eyes.
“…What?”
“Look at me.”
I hesitated.
Then slowly—
I did.
“I don’t regret this,” he said.
“Me neither.”
“I don’t regret meeting you.”
“Me neither.”
“I don’t regret staying.”
“…Me neither.”
Each word felt like something final.
Like something we were trying to hold onto before it slipped away.
“Then why does it feel like we’re already saying goodbye?” I asked.
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then—
“Because we are.”
That hurt.
More than I expected.
More than I was ready for.
I laughed softly.
A sad kind of laugh.
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
“I hate that this is happening now.”
“Me too.”
“I hate that we didn’t get more time.”
Silence.
Then—
“Me too.”
I shook my head.
“This isn’t fair.”
“It’s not.”
“Nothing about this is fair.”
“I know.”
“And we can’t fix it.”
“No.”
The honesty between us was suffocating.
Because there were no lies to hide behind.
No illusions.
No false hope.
Just truth.
And sometimes—
truth hurts more than anything else.
“So what happens now?” I asked.
He looked at me.
And for once—
there was no hesitation.
“We stop pretending.”
My heart raced.
“Pretending what?”
“That this is nothing.”
Silence.
Then—
“It’s not nothing,” I said.
“I know.”
He moved closer.
Not fast.
Not sudden.
Just enough.
“Then don’t act like it is,” he said softly.
I swallowed.
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I’m trying not to break.”
His expression softened.
And suddenly—
everything inside me felt fragile.
“You won’t,” he said.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because you’re still here.”
That answer—
simple.
But heavy.
I looked at him.
And this time—
I didn’t look away.
Because there was nothing left to hide.
Nothing left to avoid.
“Say it,” he said quietly.
My heart skipped.
“Say what?”
“You know what.”
I did.
I knew exactly what he meant.
But saying it—
that was different.
That made it real.
That made it something we couldn’t take back.
“I…” I hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then—
“I care about you.”
He smiled faintly.
“That’s not it.”
“I know.”
“Try again.”
My chest tightened.
Because now—
there was no avoiding it.
No deflecting.
No hiding.
“I like you,” I said softly.
He shook his head slightly.
“Still not it.”
I let out a breath.
“You’re making this harder.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because it matters.”
I looked at him.
At the person who somehow became part of my life without me noticing.
At the person I didn’t want to lose.
At the person who was about to leave anyway.
And then—
I stopped fighting it.
Stopped holding back.
Stopped pretending I didn’t know.
“I love you.”
The words came out quiet.
But they felt louder than anything I had ever said.
Silence.
Complete.
Still.
And then—
he exhaled.
Like he had been holding his breath this whole time.
“Say it again,” he whispered.
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I already said it.”
“That’s not enough.”
I almost laughed.
“You’re impossible.”
“You love me anyway.”
I smiled.
Just a little.
“…Yeah.”
He looked at me like he was trying to remember every detail.
Every expression.
Every moment.
“I love you too,” he said.
And just like that—
everything became real.
No more almost.
No more confusion.
No more pretending.
Just us.
Two people.
In the wrong time.
In the right moment.
And somehow—
that made it even harder.
Because now—
we weren’t just something undefined.
We were something real.
And real things—
are the hardest to let go.
- Writer
