She keeps staring off for a second, watching strangers pass by. “Why don’t you date, Nathan?” she asks, out of nowhere.
I blink. “Uh… I don’t know. Never felt the need to, I guess.”
“You’re twenty-two and haven’t gone on arealdate. Not once.” She finally looks at me. “That’s not weird to you?”
“Well, that’s not true. I dateyou,” I joke, trying to deflect. But her expression doesn’t change. There's something behind her eyes. Regret, maybe. Or pity.
She exhales and leans closer. “You should date. Try things. Meet people. Get your heart broken, break a few.”
“Where is this coming from?” I ask, trying to read her face like it’ll give me the answers.
“I’ve been thinking a lot,” she says, brushing her hair behind her ear. “And I care about you. But I think I’ve been selfish. Keeping you around like this.”
“I don’t mind.” I wink, hoping to break the tension. But she takes my hand across the table, and my stomach sinks.
No.No, not this.
“I think we should end this,” she says, motioning between us. “Whateverthis is.”
I stare at her, stunned into silence. My brain short circuits. Words flee.
“W-what? Why?”
“This isn’t healthy,” she says gently. “Not for you. Not for me. You need more than this. So do I.”
“I can give you more,” I whisper, looking down at our hands. Hers squeezes mine before I look back up into her glassy eyes.
“You deserve better, Nathan. Trust me.”
Trust me?I’ve heard those words before—from someone who ruined everything. And now, even years later, Caleb’s ghost is still stealing things from me.
“I have to go,” I say, pulling my hand back.
“What? Nathan—wait, let’s talk—”
But I’m already standing. The heat rises to my face, a boil of humiliation and clarity all at once. Theo was right.
I was never a real option for her. She’s been stringing me along all this time and…I let her.
“Bye, Sarah,” I say, shaking my head as I walk away. She calls after me, but I don’t stop.
I can't believe I just walked away like that.
A year ago, hell, even a few months ago, I would’ve stayed. I would’ve begged her to give us another shot, to keep whatever this was alive.
But not now. Not after today. Not after two reminders—two flat out signs shoved in my face—that maybe I’ve been letting people linger in my life long after their expiration date.
The truth is, it’s easier than I thought to walk away right now when all that’s been replaying is the memory of him and what he did to warp whatever Sarah and I kind of sort of meant to each other.
He’s always been there. In every moment I’ve spent trying to prove I’m good enough. In every friendship I’ve held too tightly. In every time I’ve told myself this is fine, even when I knew deep down it wasn’t.
He’s the voice in my head that tells me I’ll never be more than second best.
The fucking shadow I never asked for.
Fuck you, Caleb.
7
