I couldn't sleep. Not tonight, not for the past week. My apartment felt too empty, too quiet, as if it were mocking me. Every corner reminded me of her Mira. Her laugh, her thoughtful silence, the way she'd scrunch her nose when she was thinking too hard.
I had made a mistake. A huge one. And I kept replaying the same scene over and over: the café, her eyes, the way she had turned toward the door and left without looking back.
I should have stopped her, I thought bitterly, burying my face in my hands. I should have told her that I loved her. That I wanted to stay. That timing didn't matter.
But timing did matter. Timing had been the cruelest wall between us, the kind that no amount of love could scale. I had thought I could fight it. Thought I could outrun my family's expectations, my obligations. But I hadn't. And now she was gone again.
The streets outside my window glowed with the soft haze of streetlights. The city was alive, buzzing with stories I wasn't part of. I imagined her walking somewhere, laughing with friends, living without me and it felt like my chest was being crushed by the weight of all the moments I had missed.
I got up and paced. My mind was a mess of regrets, of what-ifs, of dreams that had never materialized. She loved me first. The thought hit harder than any punch. She had given herself to me, slowly, patiently, while I had wandered blindly. And now I was the one late to the story.
I remembered the first night she said she loved me. I had smiled, kissed her forehead, and told her I cared. I had thought that was enough. I hadn't realized then that loving someone isn't always enough sometimes you have to show up fully, in time, in the right moment.
The worst part was knowing that she had forgiven me, or at least accepted what had happened. She had walked away gently, leaving me with the truth I couldn't escape: I had failed her when it mattered most.
I failed us.
I grabbed my jacket and left the apartment. I didn't know where I was going maybe it was fate, maybe desperation but my feet carried me instinctively toward the places we had shared. The café. The bookstore where she spent hours browsing novels. The park bench near the river where she had once leaned against me and said, "I feel like I could stay here forever."
Every step reminded me of the walls we had built walls I had helped raise with every delayed text, every excuse, every choice that put obligations above her. I was a fool, and I knew it.
When I reached the park, I saw her. Sitting on that same bench, knees pulled close, staring at the river as if she could see the answers in the water. She didn't notice me at first. Maybe she never would. Maybe I was too late again.
"Jonah," she said, without turning, after a long silence.
I froze. My heart hammered. Her voice soft, tired, familiar was both a balm and a blade.
"I… Mira," I said, stepping closer. "I know I have no right. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I had to see you. I had to try."
She finally looked at me. Her eyes were calm, guarded, but something flickered in the corners recognition, memory, a shadow of what we once had.
"You're late again," she said quietly, not angry, not reproachful just stating a fact.
"I know," I whispered. "I'm always late. And I hate it. I hate that I couldn't be there when it mattered. That I couldn't stop the timing from being against us."
She tilted her head, studying me. "Jonah… we loved each other in different timelines. That's not something you can fight. You can't change it."
Her words cut, but they were true. The walls between us weren't just my doing they were life itself, circumstance, timing, inevitability. I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her that love should be enough. That we could find a way. But I knew she was right.
Some walls can't be climbed. Some love can't survive timing.
"I just… I needed you to know that I didn't stop loving you," I admitted. "Even when I walked away. Even when I failed. Even now."
She didn't respond immediately. The river reflected her face, calm and steady, unbroken. Finally, she spoke:
"I know. And I… I've loved you, too. Even when I had to let go. Even when I thought I had to move on. That hasn't changed."
Silence fell between us, heavy and full of everything unsaid. I wanted to reach for her, to take her hands in mine, to promise her the world. But I didn't. Because timing hadn't changed. The walls remained.
"I guess… we're stuck," I said softly.
She nodded. "Maybe we are."
I looked at her one last time, memorizing the curve of her smile, the way the light caught her eyes, the way love lingered even when timing tore us apart.
I turned and walked away. Not running. Not defeated. Just aware. Aware that some love stories are meant to exist in fragments, and some hearts must learn to carry love even when it cannot be held.
And somehow, that's enough to survive.