A Fading Sunset
Zach had always believed that some things were unchangeable—like the way the sun always set, the way the seasons cycled, or the way Lena's laughter had once felt like home.
But now, as he stood outside the café where she had left him the night before, staring at the crumpled letter in his hands, he realized that even the most beautiful things could slip away.
He hadn't slept. He hadn't even tried. Instead, he spent the night replaying everything in his head—the first time he met Lena, the years of friendship, the laughter, the fights, the moment when they became something more, and the slow, painful unraveling of it all.
Was this what closure felt like? Or was it just another way of saying goodbye without really letting go?
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Zach, you okay?
It was Blythe.
He sighed, hesitating before replying.
Yeah. Just thinking.
A few seconds later, another message came through.
Want to talk?
Zach stared at the words, torn. Did he?
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but before he could respond, another message popped up.
Meet me at the park in 10. Bring snacks. I'm hungry.
He let out a small, tired laugh. Trust Blythe to be blunt even in serious moments.
Fine. But you're paying me back.
Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up.
---
Conversations Under the Sky
Zach found Blythe sitting on a bench near the lake, absentmindedly tossing small stones into the water. The sky above them was a deep shade of blue, tinged with the last remnants of sunset.
"You're late," she said without looking up.
"You said 10 minutes," Zach retorted, plopping down beside her and tossing a bag of chips onto her lap. "It's only been 12."
"Which is late," she shot back before opening the bag and taking a handful of chips.
Zach exhaled, leaning back against the bench. The silence stretched between them, comfortable yet heavy.
"You wanna talk about it?" Blythe asked eventually.
He didn't respond right away. He just watched the water, thinking.
"Lena reached out last night," he finally said.
Blythe turned to him, her expression unreadable. "And?"
"And... we talked." Zach let out a dry chuckle. "Then she gave me a letter and left."
Blythe nodded as if she had already expected that answer. "Did you read it?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
Zach took a deep breath. "It was a goodbye."
Blythe didn't say anything. She just stared at him, waiting for him to continue.
"I spent so long convincing myself that we could fix things," Zach admitted, running a hand through his hair. "But I think deep down, I knew we couldn't. I just didn't want to accept it."
Blythe hummed in understanding. "You loved her."
Zach nodded. "Yeah."
"Do you still?"
He hesitated. It wasn't an easy question.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I think… I'll always care about her. But maybe that's different from love."
Blythe offered him a small, knowing smile. "Sounds like you're finally letting go."
Zach scoffed. "Doesn't feel like it."
"Because it hurts?"
"Yeah."
Blythe nudged him playfully. "Pain means you actually felt something. Would've been worse if you didn't."
He rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile slightly. "You sound like you've been through this before."
She shrugged. "Maybe."
They sat there for a while, watching the sky darken as the stars began to appear.
Zach let out a slow breath. "You know what the worst part is?"
"What?"
"I don't even know when we started falling apart." His voice was quieter now, almost like he was afraid to say it out loud. "One day, we were fine. The next… we weren't."
Blythe was silent for a moment before she spoke. "Maybe it wasn't one day. Maybe it was little things—tiny cracks that neither of you noticed until they turned into something too big to ignore."
Zach frowned. "That's depressing."
Blythe laughed. "Welcome to reality."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Thanks for this, by the way."
"For what?"
"For listening."
Blythe smirked. "Please. I just wanted free snacks."
Zach let out a real laugh this time, and for the first time in a long while, it didn't feel forced.
Maybe Blythe was right. Maybe letting go wasn't about forgetting. Maybe it was just about accepting.
And maybe, just maybe, he was finally starting to.
---
To be continued...