Five days slowly qiuckly turned into the morning of Ryan's departure.
Zoey barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw train tracks stretching endlessly into the distance. She saw Ryan standing at the platform. She saw herself frozen, unable to move, unable to speak.
When her alarm rang, she was already awake.
The sky outside was pale, washed in early morning light. Too calm. Too ordinary.
Her chest felt anything but.
The kitchen smelled like toast and coffee.
Ryan was already there.
He stood by the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy like he had run his fingers through it too many times. He looked up when she entered.
"Morning," he said softly.
"Morning," she replied, her voice almost too quiet.
Ava sat at the table, watching both of them over her mug.
The air felt different.
Not uncomfortable. Not exactly.
Just fragile.
Zoey took a seat across from Ryan. Their knees almost touched under the table, and she had to resist the urge to pull away.
Say something normal.
"How did you sleep?" she asked.
"Okay," he said. A pause. "You?"
"Fine."
Lie.
Ava set her mug down loudly. "You two are so bad at pretending."
Zoey shot her a look.
Ryan let out a faint breath that almost resembled a laugh. "We're not pretending."
"You are," Ava said calmly. "It's written all over your faces."
Silence fell again.
Heavy. Thick. Unavoidable.
Ryan pushed his toast around his plate instead of eating it.
Zoey noticed.
She noticed everything.
The way his jaw tightened slightly.
The way he avoided holding her gaze for too long.
The way his fingers tapped restlessly against the table.
"You packed everything?" she asked, desperate to fill the quiet.
"Yeah. Last box went in the car last night."
Last box.
The words felt final.
She nodded slowly.
Ava leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "Train leaves at eleven, right?"
"Yeah," Ryan answered.
Zoey's stomach dropped.
Eleven.
Just a few hours away.
Time had never felt so cruelly efficient.
Breakfast dragged on painfully.
Every clink of a fork against a plate sounded louder than it should. Every glance felt loaded.
At one point, Ryan looked up suddenly — and their eyes locked.
For a split second, the world narrowed.
Zoey's heart pounded so loudly she was sure both of them could hear it.
There was something in his eyes.
Hesitation.
Uncertainty.
Maybe even fear.
Like he wanted to say something but didn't know how to begin.
Her lips parted slightly.
This is it.
But Ava cleared her throat.
And the moment shattered.
After breakfast, Ryan stood first. "I should finish getting ready."
Zoey nodded.
"I'll help," she said quickly, standing too.
Ava's gaze followed them carefully.
As they walked toward the hallway, Ava grabbed Zoey's wrist gently.
"Two minutes," Ava whispered.
Ryan disappeared into his room.
Zoey turned to Ava, heart racing. "What?"
Ava's expression was serious now. No teasing. No jokes.
"This is your last chance before the station," she said quietly.
Zoey swallowed.
"I know."
"No," Ava shook her head softly. "You don't. Once he gets on that train, everything changes. Distance changes people. Silence changes people."
Zoey's chest tightened.
"I'm scared," she admitted, her voice barely audible.
Ava softened. "Of what?"
"That he won't feel the same." Her eyes stung. "That I'll lose him."
Ava stepped closer. "You'll lose him more by saying nothing."
The words landed deep.
Zoey closed her eyes for a moment.
"You don't need a perfect speech," Ava continued. "You just need honesty."
A long pause.
Then Ava squeezed her hand. "Don't let him leave without knowing."
Zoey stepped into Ryan's room.
It looked almost empty now.
His posters were down. His shelves were bare. The space felt like an echo of what it used to be.
Ryan stood by his desk, zipping up his backpack.
"You ready?" he asked.
She didn't answer right away.
He looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And something shifted.
"I don't want this to be weird," he said quietly.
Her heart skipped.
"It's not weird," she replied quickly.
He gave her a small, sad smile. "It kind of is."
A fragile laugh escaped her.
"Zo," he started, then stopped.
She stepped closer.
"What?" she asked softly.
He ran a hand through his hair. "I just… I don't want things to change between us."
Her breath caught.
"They won't," she said, though she wasn't sure if that was true.
He studied her face carefully.
"You promise?" he asked.
The vulnerability in his voice nearly broke her.
"I promise," she whispered.
But promises felt small compared to the storm inside her chest.
When they walked back into the living room, Ava was waiting near the door.
"Time," she said gently.
Zoey's stomach twisted.
Ryan picked up his last bag.
Everything felt slower now.
Like time was stretching the moment deliberately.
They stepped outside.
The air was cool, crisp, unforgivingly bright.
Zoey walked beside him, hands trembling slightly at her sides.
She could still say it.
She could still fix this.
The car was parked at the curb.
Ryan placed his bag in the trunk.
He turned to her.
For a moment, they just stood there.
No jokes.
No teasing.
No distractions.
Just the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.
He stepped closer.
"Thanks," he said softly.
"For what?"
"For always being there."
Her chest ached.
"You don't have to thank me," she whispered.
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Like both of them were balancing on the edge of something irreversible.
Ava cleared her throat gently from behind them.
"Let's go," she said.
The station awaited.
And so did the truth.
Sometimes, the words that matter most wait at the edge of courage.