The early morning chill bit at their skin as Javier and Mahnoor stepped out of the cab at Heathrow Airport. The sky was still dark, the first light of dawn just barely teasing the horizon, and the air was filled with the bustle of travelers rushing to catch early flights. But despite the crowd and the noise, an almost suffocating quiet surrounded them, the kind that hangs in the air before something inevitable happens.
Javier carried Mahnoor's suitcase in one hand and her hand in the other. Neither of them said a word as they made their way through the airport, past the security checks, and toward the terminal where her flight to Lahore was waiting. Time had stretched unbearably thin since they left his dorm room, and now that they were standing at the point of no return, every second felt like a countdown.
When they reached the gate, the tension between them was palpable. Her flight was boarding soon. She would be on her way back to Pakistan, and in just two days, he would be leaving for Spain. Different directions. Different continents. And perhaps, different lives.
Javier set her suitcase down beside her and turned to face her fully. He reached out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. His touch lingered, as though he was trying to memorize the feel of her skin, the shape of her face. Mahnoor looked up at him, her eyes already glassy with unshed tears.
For a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other, both struggling to find the right words. It was absurd—three years of rivalry, three years of pushing each other to the edge, and now that it was over, all the things they had never said hung in the air like thick fog, impossible to grasp but impossible to ignore.
"I'm not ready for this," Javier finally said, his voice low, rough. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks, and Mahnoor swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Javier..." she started, but he cut her off.
"No, listen to me." His eyes burned into hers with an intensity that made her chest tighten. "God, Mahnoor, my lust for you hasn't yet subsided," he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. His forehead pressed against hers, and she could feel the heat of his breath, the tension in his words. "I still want you. I still... I wish I could take back the last three years. I wish I hadn't been so damn stubborn, so obsessed with winning that I never let myself realize what I was losing...my potential love."
Mahnoor's throat constricted as the first tear slipped down her cheek. She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together to keep from breaking down entirely. "Don't say that, don't say the word 'love' now Javi" she whispered.
"It's too late," her voice cracked.
"I know it is," Javier said, his voice ragged with regret. "But that doesn't stop me from wishing I could go back, from wanting those three years back. We wasted so much time, Mahnoor. So much time on a rivalry that never mattered. I don't know what's worse—knowing that, or knowing that I'm losing you now."
Mahnoor couldn't hold it in anymore. The tears spilled freely down her face, her chest shaking with quiet sobs. Javier pulled her into his arms, holding her as tightly as he could, as if he could somehow keep her with him by sheer force of will. His hands were trembling as they ran through her hair, down her back, clinging to her with a desperation that neither of them had ever allowed themselves to show before.
"I'm sorry," he whispered against her hair, his voice breaking. "I'm so fucking sorry, Mahnoor. For everything. For initiating the rivalry, for being so goddamn jealous of you all the time. You were always on top, always so perfect, and it drove me crazy. I just... I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand that I could never beat you."
Mahnoor clung to him, burying her face in his chest as the sobs wracked her body. She had always suspected that there was more to their rivalry, something deeper beneath the surface, but hearing him admit it now—hearing the raw vulnerability in his voice—was almost too much to bear.
"I'll miss you, Mahnoor," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll miss you more than I can say."
She didn't respond with words, couldn't even if she had wanted to. Instead, she just held onto him, as tightly as she could, as though if she held him hard enough, long enough, she wouldn't have to let him go.
But the boarding announcement came, piercing through the fog of emotion that surrounded them. The mechanical voice over the loudspeaker was indifferent, distant, reminding them of the reality they couldn't escape.
Mahnoor pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her tear-streaked face glowing softly under the airport lights. She swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "I have to go, but I don't want to..."
Javier's grip tightened for a moment, as though he could keep her with him, but then he slowly loosened his hold, his hands dropping to his sides. He leaned in one last time, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, filled with all the things they would never get to say. It wasn't the kiss of a goodbye. It was a kiss of longing, of regret, of wanting more time.
When they finally broke apart, Mahnoor's breath hitched, her heart aching with the weight of everything that had just happened, everything they were leaving behind.
"I'll never forget you, Javier," she whispered, her hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. "Not ever."
"Me neither," he whispered back, his eyes searching hers one last time. "Goodbye, Mahnoor."
With one final, lingering kiss, Javier took her breath away, kissing her to the depths of her soul. Then she turned and walked away, her heart shattering with each step she took. She didn't look back—she couldn't. If she did, she wasn't sure she would have the strength to keep going. As she handed her ticket to the attendant and made her way toward the gate, she could still feel his presence behind her, still feel his eyes on her. But when she boarded the plane and settled into her seat, reality hit her like a cold wave.
This was it. They were done.
As the plane took off, carrying her across the world back to Pakistan, she allowed herself to cry quietly in the solitude of her seat, her body curled up in the small space, her mind replaying every moment of that last kiss, that last touch, over and over.
Back at the airport, Javier stood motionless, staring at the gate long after she had disappeared. His chest felt hollow, as though something vital had been ripped out of him. He wanted to chase after her, to call her back, to tell her that he wasn't ready to let go. But he didn't. Instead, he walked out of the terminal and into the cold morning air, numb and alone.
The next few days passed in a blur for both of them. Mahnoor returned to Lahore and settled back into life in Pakistan, while Javier boarded his own flight to Spain two days later. Despite the distance, they kept in touch—at first, constantly. There were late-night texts, phone calls, even video chats where they tried to hold onto the connection they had shared. But slowly, inevitably, life began to pull them in different directions.
Mahnoor threw herself into her legal career in Lahore, and Javier did the same in Granada, Spain. What had once been daily conversations turned into weekly texts, then monthly check-ins. Time, distance, and the demands of their own lives began to erode the bond they had fought so hard to maintain.
After about a year and a half, the messages stopped altogether. Neither of them had the heart to acknowledge it, but they both knew the truth: the world had moved on, and so had they. The rivalry that had once defined their lives, the passion that had sparked between them, had faded into the background, leaving only memories of what might have been.
But even though they no longer spoke, even though their lives had taken them to opposite sides of the world, neither of them ever truly forgot that early morning at the airport, the final kiss, and the unspoken promise of what could never be.