We just found each other again and you're already leaving?
I can't say any of that. I can't make her choose between me and the life she's built. Can't be the reason she gives up everything she's worked for. Even if watching her leave might actually kill me this time.
"I'll come back," she says, and there's urgency in her voice now. Desperation. "Nate, I will. I'm not—this isn't like before. I'm not running. I just need to handle things, close that chapter properly, and then?—"
"And then what?"
The question comes out harsher than I intend, and I see her flinch.
I soften my voice, try again.
"I'm not trying to—I just need to understand. You're going back to LA for a month to sort things out. And then what? You come back here? You go back there?”
"I know what I want," she says, and her eyes are bright with unshed tears. "I want you. I want this. I want?—"
"But you still have to leave.”
It's not an accusation, just a statement of fact. One that makes everything fucking hurt to the point where logic is screaming at me to not let her go, to do whatever it takes to make her stay.
But I can't.
Because I love her and loving her means letting her do what she needs to do.
"I told you I loved you," I say quietly, looking down at my hands. "For the first time in seven years, I told you I loved you. And now you're leaving, and I don't know when you're coming back or if you're coming back or if?—"
My voice breaks.
I stop. Take a breath. Try to pull myself together before I say something I can't take back.
"I'm sorry," I manage finally. "That's not fair. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. I just..."
I look up at her, and I don't try to hide any of it anymore.
The hurt. The fear. The bone-deep exhaustion of loving someone this much and still not being enough to make them stay.
"I thought I just got you back," I finish, and my voice is barely above a whisper now.
She steps closer, and her hands come up to cup my face with a gentleness that makes my chest ache even more.
"I will be back," she says, and there's certainty in her voice that I want desperately to believe. "I promise you, Nate. I will be back."
I close my eyes and lean into her touch, just for a moment letting myself have this before I have to let it go. I know better than anyone that hope is a dangerous thing to hold onto.
But right now, it's all I've got.
So I hold it anyway.
After she leaves,I stand in my empty cabin for a long time. Just breathing, just existing in the space she left behind.
Loving Nora was never the problem. It's the easiest thing I've ever done.
Letting her go—watching her walk away, knowing I might never get her back, that she might choose differently once she's had time and distance to think clearly—that's the part that's killing me.
But I'll do it anyway.
Because that's what love is when you strip away all the poetry and romance and bullshit that people use to make it sound prettier than it actually is.
It's choosing someone's happiness even when it costs you everything you have.
