Page 27 of Playing with My Heart

“Somewhere between the move and the midnight shifts, I guess. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I should have tried harder. I got so caught up in the hospital, in proving myself—I neglected us. Maybe if I’d made more time, if I’d been more present?—”

I shook my head, cutting him off. “No, David. This isn’t on you. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

“But I could do better,” he insisted, leaning forward, his eyes pleading. “I could take fewer shifts, we could plan date nights, maybe even take that trip to the beach we always talked about. I promise I’ll try harder, Parker. We can fix this.” The earnestnessin his voice tugged at my heart, but I knew it wasn’t enough. We’d been drifting apart for so long, the flame had burned out and no amount of date nights or beach trips could bring it all back.

“David,” I said softly, reaching out to take his hand. His fingers were cool against my palm, familiar yet somehow foreign. “I don’t think we can fix this. At least, not in the way you mean.”

His face fell, a mix of hurt and realization dawning in his eyes. “What are you saying, Parker?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to say the words I knew would change everything. “I’m saying that I think we’ve grown apart. We’re not the same people we were in high school, or college, or even when we moved here. We’ve changed, and—I think our love has changed too.”

David was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed on our joined hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve known for a while. I just—I didn’t want to admit it.” His expression turned sheepish. “That’s why I blindsided you with a proposal out of the blue. I think I was just trying to hold on.”

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I get it. I’ve known things were different for a while now.” We sat in silence, the weight of our admission hanging heavy in the air. Outside, the Chicago skyline twinkled, oblivious to the small heartbreak unfolding in our living room.

“Do you remember that summer after graduation?” David asked suddenly, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “When we drove to the lake and camped under the stars?”

I couldn’t help but smile too, the memory warming me from within. “How could I forget? We were so in love, so full of dreams.”

“We were,” he agreed, his thumb absently stroking the back of my hand. “And it was beautiful while it lasted, wasn’t it?” David’s voice was soft, tinged with nostalgia and a hint of regret.

I nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “I love you. A part of me always will. You know that, right?” I needed him to understand.

“Of course I do. And I love you too, but—” He hesitated, searching for the words. “But we’re notinlove, are we?”

It was the question neither of us wanted to ask, but both knew the answer to. I nodded slowly, a single tear escaping down my cheek. “No, we’re not.”

“God, this hurts,” he whispered, and I could see his own eyes glistening. We weren’t angry, just two souls recognizing the end of a chapter.

“I know it does, but we deserve more, David. We both deserve someone who makes us feel alive, who reignites those flutters and the passion we’ve lost,” I said, feeling a strange mix of relief and anguish.

“Someone who’s our priority,” he agreed, voice thick with emotion.

I nodded. “Are we—are we saying we’re better off as friends?”

“Looks like it,” David confirmed, reaching for my hand again. His touch was warm, familiar, and heartbreaking.

“Friends,” I echoed, allowing the word to settle into the space between us.

“Friends,” he affirmed, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

We sat in companionable silence for a few moments, both lost in memories of happier days. The weight of our impending separation hung heavy in the air, but there was also a sense of relief. We were finally being honest with each other, and with ourselves.

“So, what happens now?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine.

“David,” I choked out between sobs, my voice barely above a whisper, “I think it’s time for me to move out.”

His eyes, red-rimmed and swimming with emotion, met mine in a silent nod. He understood; there was no need for more words. I reached into my pocket, feeling the cool metal of the engagement ring against my trembling fingers. With every ounce of strength I had left, I placed the ring in David’s palm—a symbol of a dream that would never come true—at least for us. His hand closed around it, and something inside me fractured.

“Keep it,” I murmured, “or don’t. It’s yours now.”

He nodded again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he fought back more tears. There was nothing more to say.

I walked to our room, grabbing a duffel bag and tossing in a few clothes and toiletries—just enough to get by. The rest of my belongings could wait; they felt like ghosts of a life we’d never live. My heart thrummed painfully against my ribs, the finality of the moment crackling in the air like static.

“Bye, Parker,” he said as I reached for the door handle.

I spun back around and threw my arms around him, hugging him tight. He held me just as tightly. “Goodbye, David,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.

---