The airport was crowded, loud, and unforgiving.
I pushed through people with my heart in my throat, scanning every face like his might disappear if I blinked. My phone showed no new messages. No calls. Just silence.
"Daniel," I whispered, breathless, even though he wasn't there yet.
What if I was already too late?
Then I saw him.
He stood near the departure gate, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes tired in a way that made my chest ache. He looked like someone who had finally decided to stop hoping.
"Daniel!" I called.
He turned slowly, like he wasn't sure he wanted to believe it was me.
"You came," he said.
"I couldn't let you leave without saying something," I replied, hands shaking. "I couldn't live with that."
He studied my face. "Are you here to stop me… or to say goodbye?"
The question felt like a blade.
"I don't know how to love perfectly," I admitted. "But I know I don't want a life where you're just a memory."
Silence stretched between us.
"And Ethan?" he asked quietly.
"I care about him," I said. "But care isn't the same as building a future."
Daniel exhaled slowly, like he'd been holding his breath for days. "You should only choose me if you're choosing freely. Not because you're afraid of losing me."
The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal.
This was it.
I reached for his hand—but stopped.
Because choosing love meant accepting consequences. And I wasn't sure I was strong enough yet.
"Go," I whispered.
Daniel's eyes widened. "What?"
"Go," I repeated, tears spilling. "If it's real, it will find its way back. And if it doesn't… then I'll learn to survive the truth."
For a long moment, he didn't move.
Then he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against mine. "I hope one day you stop running."
He walked away.
And I stayed behind, realizing that sometimes the bravest choices feel exactly like loss.