They weren't supposed to see each other again.
Not like this.
But fate—or maybe just the cruel coincidence of school routines—had other plans.
It was late afternoon, and the sky was soft with the fading gold of the sun. Erica had stayed behind to return a book to the library, hoping to avoid the usual end-of-day crowd. Her mind was preoccupied with trivial things: homework deadlines, whether Risha would want to hang out later, whether she should finally reply to Angel's message from the night before.
She didn't expect to see Nicole sitting alone on the front steps of the school.
But there she was.
A lone figure with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the gravel like it held all the answers she'd never asked out loud.
Erica's breath caught in her throat.
She could've turned around.
She should've turned around.
But it was too late.
Nicole looked up.
Their eyes met.
And for a single second, the world stilled.
It was like muscle memory—like her heart didn't care how much time had passed or how much pain had filled the space between them. It just reacted, reaching back to a time when this—they—had made sense.
Nicole blinked, surprise washing across her features. Her expression softened, but her body stayed still, cautious. Like she wasn't sure if she should speak. If she was even allowed to.
Erica hesitated too, half-turned to leave, but something in her chest—an ache, a need, or maybe just unfinished business—held her in place.
Finally, Nicole broke the silence. Her voice was quiet, but it reached her just fine.
"We're really doing this, huh?"
Erica swallowed hard, taking a slow step forward. "Yeah."
Nicole shifted slightly, making space beside her without saying anything. An unspoken invitation.
Erica thought about declining.
But her legs moved on their own.
She sat.
Not too close.
Just enough.
The silence between them wasn't hostile. It wasn't awkward, either. It felt like standing at the edge of something once familiar—like returning to a house you used to live in and finding the lights still on, but the warmth long gone.
Nicole exhaled slowly, hugging her knees tighter. "I didn't think… it would end like this."
"Me neither," Erica admitted, voice small.
"I always imagined we'd be okay. Eventually," Nicole murmured, looking off into the distance. "Even if we weren't together. I thought we'd… still be close. Still talk. Still laugh."
Erica didn't answer right away.
Because she had imagined that too.
She'd pictured years down the road where they could look back and smile without the ache. Where the bitterness faded and the love they shared turned into something gentler, easier to carry.
But life didn't always grant you soft landings.
"I just want you to know…" Nicole's voice cracked. She took a breath, steadying herself. "I never meant to hurt you."
Erica turned to her. And for the first time in a long while, she believed her.
"I know," she said softly.
Nicole glanced at her. Her eyes were glassy but held back the tears. "I was confused. I thought I was protecting you. Or protecting myself. I don't even know anymore."
"You don't have to explain," Erica said, surprising even herself.
Nicole blinked. "But I want to."
Erica shook her head. "It won't change what happened."
Silence again.
The kind of silence that settles deep into your bones.
"I miss you," Nicole whispered after a while.
And Erica closed her eyes.
Because hearing that hurt more than silence ever could.
"I miss you too," she replied, barely audible.
But that wasn't the same as wanting things back.
Missing someone didn't mean they were meant to return.
And sometimes, people came into your life to show you a version of love—even if it was temporary. Even if it ended before you were ready to let go.
"I hope you find happiness, Erica," Nicole said suddenly. Her voice broke slightly, but she smiled anyway. A small, sad smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
And for the first time in weeks, Erica smiled too.
"I hope you do too."
The wind picked up then, warm and steady, brushing strands of hair across their faces like a goodbye kiss from the universe.
Neither of them moved.
Not yet.
They just sat there for a little longer, two people who once shared everything now sharing silence for the last time.
Eventually, Erica stood.
Nicole looked up at her, eyes wide like maybe—just maybe—she hoped Erica would change her mind.
But Erica didn't.
Because this time, she meant it.
She had spent too long waiting for Nicole to return as the person she used to be. She had spent too long loving the idea of them, instead of letting herself heal from the reality of their ending.
This wasn't bitterness.
This wasn't revenge.
This was… peace.
Hard-earned.
Desperately needed.
"Goodbye, Nicole," Erica said quietly.
Nicole's lips trembled. "Goodbye."
And Erica turned.
She walked away.
And this time, Nicole didn't stop her.
No pleading.
No running after her.
No more false hopes.
Just the sound of footsteps on concrete and the quiet settling of something final.
Erica didn't cry this time.
She had cried too much already.
Instead, she walked down the school steps, past the rustling trees and golden sky, and into the life she was finally beginning to build without her.
And though her heart still ached, it was different now.
It wasn't the sharp pain of longing.
It was the gentle soreness that came after healing.
She didn't look back.
Because she no longer needed to.