Page 17 of Set me Free

For months there had been tension between us and I hated just how off we felt. It started the moment I told him I had gotten into Tisch. After not getting into Juilliard, I think Iman thought I would stay on the west coast; I had also gotten into Stanford something I applied to just to say I did it. But, we both knew my plan was never to go there. The corporate world just wasn’t for me.

As a free spirit, I didn’t see myself working a 9-5. I saw what that life did to my family, they always seemed stress, always trying to make more money, but it came at a price that I wasn’t anywhere near interested in paying. Instead, my goal was to study dance and if I didn’t get picked up by a dance company, I would open my own dance studio. Since I was old enough to remember I had dedicated my life to dance; mostly ballet but all genres.

"This night was perfect," I murmured.

He let out a slow breath, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, pulling me closer. "Yeah, it was."

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the way his voice sounded almost sad.

Because if I ignored it, I could pretend—just for a little while longer—that everything was okay.

The perfect night didn’t last.

It was like the weight of whatever had been on Iman’s mind all night finally got too heavy to carry. We sat in my bedroom an hour later, the air between us thick, heavier than it had been in years.

"Ren, we need to talk."

The second he said those words, my heart dropped.

I swallowed hard, arms crossed as I leaned against my dresser. I knew what was coming, but I wasn’t ready for it.

"What is there to talk about?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Ren… you know this long-distance shit ain’t gon’ work."

I flinched at how blunt he was, but I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was just being honest. I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him that we could figure it out, I wanted to shout that love was enough.

But was it?

Because if I was really being honest with myself, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to fight for this anymore. Not because I didn’t love him—because I did, so much. Iman had been my first love since freshman year. We had started dating almost immediately after he transferred to our school.

No, not loving him would ever be the problem. But because…because every time my phone lit up, I hoped it was Creed. And that wasn’t fair. Not to Iman. Not to me.

"So, what, we just… throw four years away?" My voice cracked, I grew emotional and had known this was going to happen but wasn’t prepared for it.

"Nah, Ren. We don’t throw nothin’ away," he said softly. "We just… let go before we start hating each other, before we fuck up something that means so much to the both of us. Man, I love you so fucking much this shit hurts but we both know it’s time to let it go. You going off to school in a few weeks, honestly, I should have done this sooner.”

Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I nodded, forcing a tight smile.

“Okay.”

"We good though, right?" he asked after a beat.

I exhaled deeply, then finally nodded. "Yeah Iman, we good."

We sat in silence for a moment before he stood, stepping closer, hesitating for a second before pulling me into his arms. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent one last time.

"Love you, Ren."

"Love you too Iman, so much."

And just like that, we were over.

Standingin the living room of my new apartment, I let out a deep sigh, taking it all in.

I was finally here.

The apartment was everything—already furnished and decorated but with splashes of our own style. We’d played rock, paper, scissors to determine who got the master and although I wasn’t happy that I had lost; I made due with the next biggest room in the apartment.

---