Pasco stood outside Debbie's apartment building, gripping his phone tightly. She hadn't answered his call, but he wasn't ready to give up.He pressed the buzzer for her unit, his heart pounding. After a long pause, the intercom crackled to life.
"Pasco, what are you doing here?" Debbie's voice was calm but guarded.
"I just need to talk to you," he said, desperation evident in his tone.
There was another pause before the door buzzed open. Pasco took a deep breath and walked inside, rehearsing the words he wanted to say.
When Debbie opened her door, her expression was
unreadable.
"This is a bad time," she said, crossing her arms.
"I know, but I couldn't wait any longer," Pasco said. "I need to tell you that I still love you. I know I messed up, and I don't deserve another chance, but I can't stop thinking about you."
Debbie stared at him, her emotions warring inside her. Part of her wanted to believe him, to fall back into the comfort of what they once had. But another part of her—the part that had grown stronger—knew that love wasn't enough if it wasn't built on trust and respect.
"Pasco," she began, her voice steady, "I'll always care about you. But we're not the same people we were back then. And I can't go back to being that girl who waited for you."
Pasco's shoulders sagged, but he nodded, his eyes filled with pain. "I just… I needed to try."
"I know," Debbie said softly. "But sometimes, love isn't about holding on. It's about letting go."