The Unspoken Goodbye

You weren’t supposed to matter to Rafe Cameron.

That’s what you tell yourself as you throw the last of your bags into the car, the trunk slamming shut with a finality that makes your chest ache. You grip the edge of the car door, exhaling, trying to shake the feeling that something is missing.

Then you hear it—the crunch of gravel behind you.

You don’t have to turn around to know who it is.

“So that’s it?”

Rafe’s voice is quieter than usual, missing its usual sharp edge. When you finally face him, he’s standing a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders tense. His eyes—cold, blue, intense—are locked onto yours like he’s trying to read something in them.

“You weren’t even gonna tell me?” His jaw tightens. “Just disappear?”

Your throat is dry. You force yourself to look at him, even though it hurts. “Rafe—”

“I don’t get a goodbye?”

The words hit you harder than they should. You shouldn’t feel guilty—you don’t owe him anything. You weren’t his best friend. You weren’t his problem.

But standing here now, under the dim glow of the streetlight, something about this feels… wrong.

“I have to leave,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah? And what about me?” His voice is sharper now, tinged with something raw.

“What about you?” You try to sound indifferent, but it comes out weaker than you intended.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head like he can’t believe you’re really asking. “You think this—”, he gestures between you, ”—meant nothing?”

Your heart clenches.

“Did it?”

For a second, Rafe doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Then his throat bobs as he swallows hard, like he’s trying to force the words down.

You wait.

But he just exhales, stepping back.

“Forget it,” he mutters, voice hollow.

You watch as he turns, walking away without another word.

Will you call after him?