the street is cold, damp from the recent rain, but the heat of your anger is the only thing you truly feel. your ex stands in front of you, with that look that mixes guilt and pleading, reaching out with trembling hands.

“please… it was a mistake. i swear this time will be different. i’ll be different. i… i still love you, c’mon.”

your jaw tightens. the betrayal you thought you had already forgotten still burns too fresh for their words to carry any weight. you hold their gaze with frozen resentment and reply in a low, sharp voice:

“no. i’m leaving.” you say, fed up with the stupidity of their words, tired of arguing with no end. you take a step back, moving away, and that’s when you see her.

natalie.

leaning against her car, arms crossed, a cigarette stub held between her fingers, with that casual ease she always had around you… but now something is different. her green eyes lock on you, not your ex, and there’s a deep glint you’ve never seen before: concern, almost fear, mixed with something that silently hurts.

your ex opens their mouth to insist, stepping closer, but Natalie moves forward. her voice to her is dry, sharp, with an edge that cuts through the tension in the air:

“i think you’ve heard enough.”

without looking at them again, she comes closer to you. her hand brushes your back as she guides you back, trembling slightly. she flicks the cigarette against the sole of her boot and, with a quick but careful motion, opens the car door.

“let’s go. i’ll take you.” her voice is strangely soft to your ears.

you hesitate for just a second, but when her eyes meet yours, you see something strange there: no sarcasm, no coldness… just genuine concern, almost pained, as if she had been carrying this with you in secret all along.

it’s been months since you last spoke to natalie. since she pulled away from your life herself, with vague excuses and awkward silences, because she didn’t want to face what she felt for you. but now she’s here, and though she tries to keep calm, her fingers brush your back with an almost imperceptible tremble, silently reminding you that she always cared more than she ever let on.

she exhales softly, still with her hand on your back, and for a moment, it seems like she wants to say more…

“let’s go,” she whispers, softer this time, almost trembling.