"Some endings don't explode. They just fade, until you're the only one still holding on."
The coffee between us had gone cold. Not because we'd been talking too long, but because we hadn't been talking at all. Aaron sat across from me, scrolling through his phone like the glow of the screen was warmer than my presence. The café's low hum wrapped around us, with clinking cups, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the muffled laughter from a table in the corner. All of it felt far away, like I was watching life happen through glass. I studied him the way you study a stranger you are trying to place, familiar but no longer yours. His hair was a little longer than when we met. His shirt was one I had bought him last Christmas. But the way he avoided my eyes was new.
"I think we both know this isn't working," he said finally, still not looking up.
The words didn't hit like a slap. They landed like dust, soft and inevitable, settling into the cracks I had been pretending weren't there. I wanted to argue, to list the ways we could fix it, but the truth was sitting heavy in my chest. I had been alone in this relationship for months. I thought about the nights I had stayed up waiting for his calls, the way I had convinced myself his distance was just stress and not disinterest. I thought about the way I had started shrinking myself, laughing less and asking for less, just to keep the peace.
"Yeah," I said, my voice quieter than I meant. "I guess we do."
He nodded, relieved. That hurt more than the words. When I stood to leave, the chair scraped against the floor, loud in the quiet café. He didn't look up. I walked out into the street, the city pressing in around me, and realized I wasn't crying. Not yet. The air outside was thick with the smell of rain on concrete. I pulled my jacket tighter, not because I was cold, but because I suddenly felt exposed, like everyone could see the hollow space where love used to be.
Some loves end with a fight. Ours ended with silence.
I didn't know it then, but that silence would make me reckless. It would make me crave someone who looked at me like I was the only thing in the room. It would make me ignore the warnings when that someone finally appeared.