“That’s good, isn’t it?” I say, trying to sound more certain than I feel.
“Yeah,” he replies, his voice steady but thoughtful. “I’m hitting my goals, working on my mental health too. Apparently, there’s a lot in my past I need to unpack before I risk falling back into old cravings.”
“I’m glad you’re finally taking care of yourself,” I say. “Do you still . . . not recognize me?”
He gives me a sad smile, shaking his head. “Sorry. There are pieces locked away, and maybe they’ll never come back. I’ve been told about the accident. It was the other driver’s fault, but if I hadn’t been fucked up . . . sorry for the pain I caused you. All of it.”
I want to say something deep but all that comes out is, “It’s in the past.But even when you don’t remember me, I remember us. Everything that happened. I wanted to talk to you, to find closure, but I don’t want to risk setting you back.”
“Doubtful,” he says, his tone almost casual. “Go ahead, let it out. As a bonus, I can’t argue much since I don’t remember what happened between us.”
And maybe this is for the best. I take a measured breath and meet his gaze.
“Keane, you were my world,” I begin, my voice softer than I expected. “Losing you broke something in me I didn’t think could ever be fixed. For years, I carried this guilt, this belief that I didn’t deserve to move on, to find happiness. And then I met Haydn.”
His jaw tightens slightly at the mention of Haydn, but he doesn’t interrupt. I gather myself, my voice growing stronger.
“Haydn taught me that love isn’t about replacing what was lost. It’s about building something new, something just as real. While I’ll always love the version of us we had, I’ve realized that holding on to you—holding on to the past—isn’t fair. Not to you, not to me, and not to the life I want to build with him.”
“I’m glad you found someone who deserves your love,” Keane says after a pause. “He mentioned it a few times, you know? How special you are. Maybe that’s why I held on to you for as long as I did. Hope, need . . . but I messed it up, didn’t I?”
“We had something special,” I agree gently.
“Even when I fucked up several times?”
“Even then,” I confirm. “I have so many good memories that I’ll keep because they’re a part of who I am. They shaped me.”
“Glad not everything was bad,” he murmurs. “So . . . goodbye and good luck.”
Tears prick my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. “You’ll always be a part of me, Keane. But it’s time for me to live again. To really live.”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then he looks at me, his lips curving into a bittersweet smile. “I’m glad you found someone who can love you the way I couldn’t. Who deserves someone as sweet, kind, and thoughtful as you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything. For loving me.”
He squeezes my hand lightly before letting go. “Go be happy, Ophelia. You deserve it.”
As I walk toward the door, I catch Constantine and Rowan whisper-shouting.
“Fuck you,” Rowan says before turning to look at me. “Is it over then?”
I nod. “I’ll never understand why you ghosted me too. I thought . . .”
He glances at Constantine. “Life, choices . . . nothing personal. Though, I’m glad you’re doing a lot better. Are you ever getting back with hockey boy?”
“Haydn,” I correct him.
“Take care of yourself,” he says. “If you ever need me, you know where to find me.”
“Bye Rowan,” I wave at him and stare at my brother who looks at him for way too long.
“Goodbye,” Rowan responds but his eyes don’t leave Constantine’s.
“What was that?” I ask as we head to the elevator.
He shakes his head. “Nothing really. Maybe more than one person needed closure. Let’s head to the arena. The game is in a couple of hours and I want to make sure we have everything ready.”
The elevator ride down is silent, the kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled. I let my thoughts settle, each one finding its place. By the time the doors slide open, the air feels different—brighter, clearer, full of possibility.
