CHAPTER 2
427 Words
Quiet Goodbyes
Elias watched her disappear into the crowd shoulders straight, head high, a picture of confidence. No one would guess she was running. Not even her.
He finished his drink in one swallow and set the glass down a little too hard. The bartender didn’t flinch just gave him a nod and moved on. Elias was a regular here. Always alone. Always with that same faraway look like he was waiting for someone who might never come back.
Because he was.
She never stayed long. That was her pattern. Float in, stir up the silence, then vanish like a storm with no warning. And every time, he let her go. No questions. No fights.
But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
He pulled out his phone and stared at her name in the message thread. No hearts. No saved photos. Just a thread of half-finished conversations and late-night check-ins that always ended with “don’t catch feelings.”
Too late for that.
—
Across the city, Alina stood in front of her full length mirror, suitcase half-packed on the floor. She’d only taken off her heels, still wearing the black silk dress from the rooftop. Her lipstick had faded. Her eyes looked tired.
She hated goodbyes. That’s why she never said them.
Pulling her hair into a loose bun, she stared at her reflection like it might speak sense into her. But it didn’t. It just stood there, holding all the things she refused to feel.
Paris was a distraction. A reset. A place where no one knew her name or her habits. She had business there, yes but mostly, she needed distance. From him. From herself.
Her phone buzzed. She didn’t have to check to know who it was.
Elias:
Still pretending?
She exhaled sharply and typed back.
Alina:
You were never mine to lose.
There was a long pause before his reply came.
Elias:
No. But you were mine to hold. And you never let me.
She stared at the message for a long time. Her thumb hovered over the screen. Then she turned the phone off.
At 3 a.m., Elias sat in his apartment, dim light casting soft shadows on his face. Jazz played low from the speakers—something vintage and slow. Something that reminded him of her.
He leaned back on the couch, eyes closed, and whispered to the empty room:
“Say goodbye, Alina. Just once.”
But she never would. Because if she said it out loud, it would be real.
And that’s the one rule she couldn’t break.
- Writer
