SWEET PAIN

I looked out the car window at the busy streets; the city seemed unreal.

“Stop the car,” I told the driver.

She glanced at me through the rearview mirror.

“Boss… it’s freezing outside. You didn’t even bring a coat.”

My jaw tightened instantly.

“Don’t call me that,” I said, sharper than I meant to.

“You’ve been working with me for three years. My name is Ryan.”

She hesitated. “It’s just what I’m used to—”

“I don’t want ‘used to,’” I cut in. “I want honesty. And respect. Calling me ‘boss’ makes it sound like there’s a wall between us.”

She looked away, nodding slowly.

“Alright… Ryan.”

Her hand reached back with a jacket.

“Still,” she added, “it’s very cold out there. And you look like you forgot you’re human tonight.”

I exhaled, some of the tension leaving my shoulders.

“Then remind me,” I murmured.

She unlocked the doors.

“Just don’t stay out long,” she said. “The cold doesn’t care who you are… or what people call you.”

The night air was sharp, biting my lungs with every breath. I stepped onto the crowded streets, my eyes drinking in the city’s chaos—lights of every color flickering, reflecting on wet asphalt.

I pushed through the throngs of people, the noise and movement pressing around me like a tide. Each step away from the crowd brought a strange quiet, the city’s chaos fading behind me, leaving only the soft hum of distant traffic and the whisper of the wind. My heart slowed as the streets emptied, the space around me opening up, guiding me to a deserted park.

Ahead, a familiar place appeared: the bridge from a decade ago. Memories I’d tried to bury surged up, stabbing like fire—painful, relentless. A wave of overwhelming fear gripped me so tight that felt frozen . I am not afraid, I told myself.

I walked onto the bridge, laid my hand on the cold metal railing letting the memories wash over me. Each one explained the changes in my heart, the reasons behind the path I’d taken, the choices that made me who I am today. And at the center of it all… my first love.

Nothing had changed from how I remembered it—the cold breeze, the sound of the water, the silent strength of the bridge. Everything was the same.

Everything except me.

I closed my eyes and let the wind brush my face.

How can a place this beautiful exist in a world so cruel?

The memories came back all at once, too heavy to hold. My chest tightened and tears slipped down my cheeks.

“I love you.”

How did words once filled with warmth turn into weapons so quickly?

“You are poor, Ryan. What don’t you understand?”

How could someone I loved become a stranger… a monster?

“I don’t want to see you ever again.”

Why did those have to be the last words I heard from her?

What did I do to deserve this?

If this was our fate, why did it have to hurt this much?

Why did it have to end like that?

Those questions have haunted me since that night…

and no one has ever answered them, or ever will.

I stood at the edge of the bridge, the river whispering below me. The cold air wrapped around my body, and for a moment, everything went silent — no traffic, no wind, no memories. Just the pull of the water and the weight in my chest.

The silence on the bridge grew unbearable. My thoughts twisted into a storm, voices echoing inside my skull—hers, mine, strangers I’d never known. “You are poor, r…” The words clawed at me, louder than the wind, louder than the river. I pressed my palms against my ears, but the voices only multiplied, circling me like vultures.

The lights of the city blurred, bending into grotesque shapes. Faces flickered in the shadows, Christine’s smile appearing and vanishing with every blink. My chest burned, my heart pounding like a drum I couldn’t silence. I laughed—sharp, broken, hollow. The sound startled even me.

I staggered to the edge, gripping the railing so tightly my knuckles turned white. Maybe the water will quiet them. Maybe the river will take it all away.

Without another thought, I hurled myself into the black abyss below. The icy grip of the river swallowed me whole, dragging me down into its depths. My body convulsed against the cold, lungs clawing for air that wasn’t there.

And then—through the blur of water and madness—I saw it. A hand reaching for me, steady and real. Around its wrist glimmered the wooden bracelet I had once carved for Christine. Her hand seized mine before the darkness claimed me, pulling me back from the edge of oblivion.

10 years before

I walked towards the football pitch as usual to activate my vitamin D secreting glands, i believed. I sat down in the middle of the pitch and opened my biology book. as i was turning it's pages some one slapped me so hard in the back that i could hear it echo throughout the almost empty school. without hesitation i tackled him down and slapped him back. when he turned around i saw the last face i expected to see this early at school. "Ali, what are you doing here?"

"what? am I not allowed to come to school?" He said rubbing his back. "yes- I mean no, but i'm suprised you're here this early." I said trying to get my book from the ground but he was quick enough to grab it before i did. "Oooh, look at you now interested in grown up stuff. " He claimed as i snatched away the book that had flipped it's pages to the reproductive lesson when i threw it to tackle him down. " They're just lessons not grown up stuff you moron." I said standing up to leave the now crowded football ground. "I can teach you things about that if you want."

“Even if I ever needed help, you’d be the last person I’d ask.”

I was still walking that off when I turned the hallway corner and spotted Christine at her locker, stuffing her books inside.

I leaned against the lockers beside her.

“You’re ignoring me again,” I said, lowering my voice just enough to annoy her.

She side-eyed me. “Because you’re trying to start something before first period.”

“I’m just trying to get your attention,” I shrugged.

She shut her locker and looked at me properly. “Not here, Ryan. We’ll talk after school.”

Then she walked off, disappearing around the corner, leaving me staring at the space she’d just been standing in.

SLAM.

Someone hit the lockers next to my head so hard the whole hallway jumped.

I turned, already annoyed.

“What the hell, Ali? What’s wrong with you?”

He grinned. “Just waking you up from your daydreams, man.”

I clicked my tongue and stepped away. “Get out of my way.”

He laughed. “Wrong direction.”

I stopped, turned back, and passed him with a smirk.

“Wrong guy, Ali. That’s you.”

There was an awkward silence as Ryan walked Christine home. He tried a few times to think of something natural to say, something that wouldn’t make the air feel so heavy.

“Do you want some ice cream?” he asked, hoping it might ease the tension.

“No,” she replied.

“Okay, how about—”

“Ryan … why do you love me?”

It wasn’t the first time she had asked, and each time the question unsettled him more than before. He opened his mouth, starting to speak.

“If you think you’re not perfect, then you’re wro—”

“You still didn’t answer,” she interrupted softly, letting go of his hand.

That’s when he realized she wasn’t teasing anymore.

He stepped in front of her, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. His voice lowered, calmer now.

“I don’t need a reason to love you,” he said. “I just… find myself choosing you, again and again.”

She looked at him for a moment, processing his words.

“Then I’ll keep asking,” she murmured, a small smile forming. “Over and over. Until the end of time.”

Ryan watched that smile, knowing he’d do anything just to keep it there.

“And I, Ryan McGary, will keep answering that question,” he said with a small smile, “again and again… until the very end of time.”

Christine’s smile widened. She slipped a folded bill out of her backpack.

“Now that I know how you really feel,” she teased, “we’re getting ice cream. My treat.”

“That’s not fair,” Ryan laughed lightly. “I can’t even remember the last time I bought you something.”

“And I can’t remember how many times I’ve told you to save for college!” she exclaimed, tugging gently at his ears as she dragged him toward the ice cream van.

“Alright, alright— that hurts,” he groaned, laughing as he followed.

By the time they reached her street, the gates of the Geneva house were already in sight. Mrs. Johnson, the family maid, stood waiting near the entrance.

“Is everything okay?” Ryan asked as they slowed their steps.

“I… I don’t know,” Christine replied, her playful tone fading into confusion.

Just then, Mrs. Johnson spotted them and hurried over.

“Miss Geneva, where have you been? Your father has been waiting for you for almost an hour,” she said, already taking Christine’s bag. “Come in through the back door.”

She turned and headed inside.

Ryan hesitated, watching Christine’s expression change.

“Christine,” he asked softly, “what’s wrong?”

“I really am clueless, Ryan,” she murmured, her eyes still fixed on the gate.

“If you’re not okay, I’m coming in with you,” he said, gripping her arm as he tried to guide her toward the open entrance.

“What are you doing? Let go.”

She pulled her arm away sharply. “Go home, Ryan. Go.”

He had nothing left to say.

So he turned around and walked away.

But his mind wouldn’t settle. Her voice echoed in his head as he moved down the street. Was she in trouble? The thought refused to leave him alone.

He stopped.

Slowly, he turned back, taking a few steps toward her house again — then froze.

She said go home.

With a heavy breath, he turned away once more. But before he could get far, he bumped into a jewelry seller walking the opposite direction.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, kid,” the man muttered as several bracelets slipped from his arm and clattered onto the ground.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Ryan replied, kneeling to help pick them up.

The man glanced at him, a faint smile forming.

“So… you’re calling me that too, huh?” he said.

"No, you’re misunderstanding—” Ryan tried to explain, but the man cut him off.

“Are you going to buy something or not?” He started spreading out his bracelets, flashing them in Ryan’s face.

“Look, I don’t have any money,” Ryan said.

The man’s expression shifted instantly. His eyes narrowed.

“So… you were bullying me then? Or trying to steal from me?” He raised his voice, scanning the street for attention. “HELP! HELP!”

“Wait— I’ll buy it! I’ll buy it,” Ryan blurted, pulling a crumpled bill from his pocket and handing it over.

The man snatched it, then bent down, picked up one of the fallen bracelets, and shoved it into Ryan’s hand. A simple wooden one.

“What are you waiting for?” the man asked, already turning away.

“The change,” Ryan said calmly.

The man scoffed. “Kids these days… you shove me and now you’re asking for change?” He waved him off. “Go. That’s the price you pay for pushing an old man.”

Ryan stared at the bracelet in his palm, He hadn’t just lost his money — he’d been played.