The Edge of Ending 8/8

The days blurred together after that call, a quiet truce settling over Lia’s life. Her partner seemed to retreat, as if sensing the distance between them but unable or unwilling to confront it. Adam, too, had grown quieter, their conversations no longer spilling into the early hours of the morning. Yet, his presence lingered in the spaces Lia carried with her, a shadow she couldn’t ignore but didn’t know how to release.

One evening, she sat alone in the living room, the house unusually still. Lia sat with her legs tugged under her, with a book in her lap. A cup of tea was steaming next to her. Her phone rested on the armrest beside her, Adam’s last message still unread: “We need to talk!”

She stared at his message, the words carrying both the promise of resolution and the weight of goodbye. Her fingers hesitated, the truth of what she was agreeing to pressing on her chest. Part of her wanted to say no, to hide from what this meeting might mean, but another part, the part that longed for clarity, pressed send. She typed: “I’m ready.”

The reply came almost instantly: “Meet me at the park?”

After all these months, it was the first time they even considered meeting in person. It felt weird, but also like the natural progression. Maybe if they had met earlier this push and pull had been easier to navigate. Lia was nervous. She was about to turn her car back around and stand him up. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t that kind of person.

The air was sharp as Lia stepped out of her car and onto the gravel path leading into the park. Twilight had settled over the landscape, painting the world in muted tones of blue and grey. The massive oaks towered above, their skeletal branches reaching skyward like frozen veins. The crisp air stung her lungs, and the distant rustle of leaves beneath her boots seemed louder in the stillness.

Adam was already there, sitting on the same bench he had described so many times before. His shoulders slumped as though he carried the weight of every unspoken word, his hands clasped tightly between his knees. He looked up as she approached, his face unreadable but his eyes soft. Lia hesitated, her feet rooted to the ground as she fought the urge to turn around and leave. But then he smiled, just barely, and the knot in her chest loosened. There was not hesitation they recognised each other immediately. Yes, they had exchanged photos, but this was different.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet.

“Hey,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

She sat beside him, the wooden slats of the bench cool against her legs. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The park seemed to hold its breath, the silence between them stretching but not breaking.

“I’m sorry,” Adam said finally, his voice rough. “For… everything. For putting so much on you.”

Lia shook her head, her hands twisting in her lap. “You didn’t put it on me. I took it. I wanted to help you. I still do.”

“But at what cost?” he asked, his gaze piercing. “You’ve been tearing yourself apart, Lia. I see it. And I can’t… I won’t let you keep doing this.”

Her breath caught, the words striking a nerve she hadn’t fully acknowledged. “I don’t know how to stop,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “You’ve become… so important to me, Adam. I don’t know where I end and where you begin anymore.”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the ground. “I leaned on you when I didn’t know how to stand on my own, and it wasn’t fair. I never wanted to hurt you, but I can see now that I did.”

Tears blurred her vision as she turned to look at him. “Are you saying we should let go?”

Adam’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “I’m saying we need to figure out who we are without this. Without the late-night calls and the secrets and the… dependency. I think we owe it to ourselves to try.”

Lia’s voice trembled as she whispered, “I love you.”

Adam turned to face her, his expression soft but resolute. “I love you too, Lia. But that’s why we need to do this. Because I want us to be whole on our own.”

Lia nodded, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. “But what if I lose you?”

“You won’t. I’ll still be here. But we need to find a way to be here for ourselves first.”

She reached for his hand, their fingers intertwining briefly before she pulled away. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice trembling but steady. “It’s for the best.” As if on autopilot, Lia got up and left Adam sitting on the bench. She didn’t know where the strength had come from to get up and leave, but she did. She didn’t look back, even though the want to see him again was almost unbearable.

What had just happened? In just a few minutes, her entire world had changed because both Adam and Lia had been mature enough to try and move on. There was no childish scene, no unnecessary tears. No screams no overflowing emotions that made the other feel guilty. Just mutual understanding that they needed to end their journey so that they were able to find their own ways.

The drive home felt lighter somehow, the tension that had coiled in her chest loosening bit by bit. Her hands gripped the wheel, her mind replaying his words. They stung, but beneath the pain was something she hadn’t expected: a sense of relief, as though she had been granted permission to finally let go. For the first time in months, Lia felt the faint stirrings of hope, not for what she had with Adam, but for herself.

When she walked through the door, her partner looked up from the kitchen table, surprise flickering across his face. “Hey,” he said cautiously. “You’re home early.”

She set her bag down and nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her voice soft. “I thought it was time.”

“Time for what?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

She hesitated, then met his gaze. “It was time to come home. Time I stop shutting you out.”

His expression softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Lia saw a glimmer of something she thought they’d lost—understanding. He rose from his chair, his expression softening further as he stepped toward her. “I’ve missed you,” he said quietly, and for the first time, she felt ready to believe him. She fell in his arms, a place where she had felt safe for years. He put his arms around her resting his chin on her head. She felt him breathe in deeply. The truth hit her like a freight train, she had missed him too. More than she knew.

Weeks later, as Lia sat alone on the park bench where she and Adam had sat, she felt a sense of stillness she hadn’t known in years. The late-night calls had stopped, but Adam’s presence remained, not as a shadow or a weight, but as a memory, a reminder of what it meant to feel seen and to see herself. Some days she missed him, she missed his presence in her life. She wanted to know how he was, but she didn’t get in touch with him.

The light breeze carried the scent of fresh grass, and the soft rustle of leaves above seemed to hum a quiet melody of renewal. She pulled out her phone, the screen blank and unassuming. She leaned back against the bench, her eyes drifting to the sky above. The sunlight dappled through the branches, warming her skin as the gentle sway of the trees mirrored the steadiness she felt within.

For the first time, Lia felt like she could breathe. Adam had taught her how to breathe on her own.

THE END

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I haven’t written fiction like this in a long while. Parts may be rushed or undeveloped, but to be honest, I am still quite alright with these words.