The morning light was pale and uncertain, filtering through the cracks of the blinds and casting faint shadows on the kitchen wall. Hassan sat at the breakfast table, his fingers tangled around a mug of half-drunk coffee that had long since cooled. Steph was sitting across from him, her eyes a mixture of concern and something deeper, something he couldn't name, but it tightened his chest every time she looked at him.
He had told her he was leaving.
The weight of the words hung between them, thick and suffocating. Steph had been quiet after he said it. Too quiet. But when he had kissed her goodnight, when they had parted in the dark, something inside him had screamed to take it all back. To stay.
But the decision had already been made.
It wasn't just the papers or the promise his father had made to him. It wasn't just the financial struggle he knew he'd face staying in Brooks Ville, fighting tooth and nail for scraps. It wasn't even the lure of a new life in London, the promise of an easier existence. It was simply this: he couldn't keep pretending. Not anymore. He couldn't stay tied to a life he didn't belong to.
But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.
"I've been thinking," Hassan murmured, breaking the silence. His voice sounded hoarse, as if the words had been choked back for too long.
Steph didn't respond immediately. Her gaze stayed on her untouched toast. She was quieter than usual, her shoulders hunched in a way that reminded him of the first day they had met—when she had been just as uncertain of him as he was of her.
"About what?" she finally asked, her voice soft but steady.
"About leaving," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know if it's the right thing to do."
Steph's head lifted then, her eyes locking onto his. She didn't say anything at first, just studied him, as if trying to understand what he was really saying.
"You're still going, aren't you?" she asked quietly, her words hanging in the air like a challenge.
Hassan nodded. He could feel the weight of the decision pressing against his chest. "I have to. I don't have a choice."
Steph's lips pressed together, and she looked away, as though she were trying to hold back something she wanted to say. But instead, she exhaled slowly, and her shoulders slumped, a defeated look crossing her face.
"What if you do have a choice?" she said softly. "What if you can stay?"
The question hit him like a punch to the gut.
He could see the pain in her eyes. It wasn't just the sadness of losing him, but the vulnerability beneath it. The kind of vulnerability that made her look like she was asking for something that would shatter her heart.
He reached out across the table, his hand finding hers in the silence. His touch was soft, tentative, as if he were afraid she might pull away.
"You know I want to stay," he whispered. "But I can't. I can't keep pretending this is enough for me. You deserve more than this. More than… me."
Steph's eyes closed, her lips trembling as she let out a small, quiet laugh, though there was no humor in it. "I don't need more. I just need you, Hassan."
His heart twisted painfully, and he squeezed her hand tighter. But just as he opened his mouth to respond, his phone buzzed, breaking the fragile moment between them.
The sound was jarring, pulling him back to reality. He glanced down at the screen and froze. It was a call from Noah.
"Sorry," Hassan muttered, reluctantly releasing her hand to grab the phone. "It's Noah. I'll be right back."
Steph didn't say anything. She just nodded, her face unreadable as he stood up and walked to the side, trying to process what had just happened. He answered the phone, his voice low. "Noah? What's up?"
Noah's voice sounded strained, as though he were holding something back. "Hassan, I… I got a call this morning. It's my mom. She had an accident."
Hassan's stomach dropped. "What? Is she okay?"
"She's… she's alive, but it's bad," Noah's voice cracked, and Hassan could hear the tremor of fear in his words. "She's got a lot of injuries, and they're saying she might be in a wheelchair for a while."
Hassan's mind raced. "What does that mean? Is she…? Does she need you?"
"I don't know. They're saying she needs help, and… and I might need to go back. I might have to leave." Noah's voice faltered, and Hassan could feel the weight of his words in the pit of his stomach.
"You don't have to explain it to me, man," Hassan said, his voice tight with emotion. "Of course, you need to be there for her. We'll figure this out."
"I don't want to leave. Not now. But I don't know what else to do."
Hassan exhaled slowly. "I get it. Let me know what you decide."
Noah paused for a moment, and then said softly, "Thanks, man. I'll let you know. I just… I needed to talk to someone."
"I'm here, always," Hassan said before ending the call.
As he turned back to Steph, her expression had shifted. There was a sadness in her eyes, but something else too—a quiet understanding.
"Everything okay?" she asked, her voice gentle.
"Noah's mom had an accident," Hassan explained, sitting back down. "He might have to leave too."
Steph's lips pressed together, and she gave a small nod. "So much is changing," she said quietly. "It feels like everything's falling apart."
Hassan didn't have an answer. He just wanted to hold her, to keep her close, to pretend for just one more moment that things could be different. That they could stay here, together, without the weight of the world pulling them in opposite directions.
But he knew that wasn't possible.
He reached across the table and took her hand again. "I don't want to leave you, Steph. You have no idea how much I don't want to leave."
Steph squeezed his hand back, her gaze unwavering. "Then don't leave," she said softly. "Stay."
Hassan closed his eyes, feeling the heat of her words settle into his chest like a heavy weight. But the reality of his situation loomed large, and he knew there was nothing he could do to change it.
The phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from his father's lawyer. It was time to sign the papers.
He had to go. There was no escaping it now.
But as he looked at Steph, a part of him wondered if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for leaving her behind.