PROLOGUE
The Breakup
The rain fell in steady sheets, turning the world into a blur of gray as Lia pulled her coat tighter around her body. She stood on the platform of the old train station, her suitcase by her side, and tried to fight the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Across from her, Ethan stood motionless, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his face a mask of emotions he clearly didn’t want her to see.
“This isn’t how I wanted things to end,” Lia said, her voice trembling as much from the cold as from the weight of her words. She searched his face for something—anger, regret, anything—but his expression remained stoic, his eyes focused somewhere just over her shoulder.
“It doesn’t have to end,” he finally said, his voice low but steady. “You’re the one leaving. You’re the one walking away.”
She flinched at the sharpness in his tone, but she didn’t look away. “It’s not that simple, Ethan. You know it’s not. This is my chance to finally make something of myself, to do something that matters.”
“And what about us?” he shot back, his voice rising. “Do we matter? Or am I just supposed to stand here and watch you go, hoping that maybe, someday, you’ll decide I’m worth coming back for?”
Lia’s chest tightened as guilt washed over her. She wanted to tell him that he was worth everything, that she had spent sleepless nights agonizing over this decision, that leaving him was the hardest thing she had ever done. But the words felt hollow in her mouth.
“This isn’t about you,” she said quietly. “It’s about me. About what I need.”
Ethan let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “And I guess what I need doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.
A silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the distant rumble of an approaching train. Lia looked down at her hands, clenched so tightly around the handle of her suitcase that her knuckles were white. She wanted to reach for him, to hold him one last time, but she didn’t trust herself not to fall apart if she did.
“I love you, Ethan,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes meeting hers for the first time. “I love you too. That’s what makes this hurt so damn much.”
The train pulled into the station, its brakes screeching against the rails. The doors opened, and a handful of passengers stepped off, their footsteps echoing on the platform.
“This is it,” Lia said, forcing herself to take a step back, away from him, away from everything they had built together.
Ethan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might say something to stop her. But he didn’t. He just stood there, watching as she picked up her suitcase and walked toward the waiting train.
As she climbed the steps and found her seat, she pressed her forehead against the window, her breath fogging up the glass. She saw Ethan still standing on the platform, his shoulders slumped, his hands still buried in his pockets.
When the train lurched forward, Lia’s vision blurred with tears. She told herself that she was doing the right thing, that this was the only way to chase her dreams. But as the distance between them grew, so did the ache in her chest, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was leaving behind more than just a small-town life. She was leaving behind a piece of herself.
Ethan didn’t move until the train disappeared from sight. Only then did he let his composure crack, his shoulders shaking as he finally let the tears fall.
