Chapter Eight – Almost Goodbye
371 Words
The night in Santo Domingo was loud as always—bachata blasting, scooters buzzing down the street, neighbors laughing. But Dylan’s room felt like a cage. The fan spun lazy circles, and his phone glowed in his hand.
He typed, erased, typed again. His chest hurt. Finally, he let it out:
“Keisha… I don’t think I can do this anymore. The distance, the waiting. You got your life in Chicago. I got mine here. Maybe it’s better we stop.”
He hit send.
The second it left, he felt like he’d thrown the ball into his own hoop.
Chicago cold
Keisha was in her room, window fogged from the snow outside, scrolling through t****k. Her phone buzzed. She opened the message, read it once. Twice. Her hands went cold.
“Stop?” she whispered.
Mariah FaceTimed her right then. “Girl, what’s wrong?”
Keisha turned the screen so Mariah could read.
Mariah’s jaw dropped. “No way. He’s serious?”
Keisha’s throat felt tight. “He thinks it’s impossible. Maybe he’s right.”
Mariah leaned closer to the camera. “Impossible? Girl, you light up every time you say his name. That’s not impossible. That’s real.”
Keisha shut her eyes. Her heart was racing like before a match point.
Dylan’s side
Back in DR, Dylan stared at the ceiling. No reply. No typing dots. Just silence.
He muttered, “Ya… it’s over.”
Mateo knocked on his door. “Bro, practice tomorrow, don’t be late.”
Dylan didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His chest was too heavy.
⸻
The choice
Hours later, in Chicago, Keisha opened her notes app, thumbs shaking. She started typing:
“Dylan, don’t you get it? You’re not just some boy from DR. You’re the one I think about before I sleep, the one I look for when I wake up. Distance doesn’t scare me. Losing you does.”
She stared at the words, tears threatening to fall. She whispered, “Should I send it?”
Mariah’s voice in her head: “Don’t wait too long to tell him.”
Her finger hovered over the button.
And in that moment, two hearts across oceans beat the same question:
Is this the end, or the beginning?
- Writer
