sweet

The rain pounded the glass, turning the city lights into neon blurs. A heavy, almost physical silence hung between you at the table.

"Say it out loud," you whispered, clutching the cold cup. "Don't be silent."

He looked from the window to you. There was something worse than anger in his eyes—polite sympathy.
“What do you want to hear?” he asked quietly. “What you already know?”

"I've been there all these years. I supported you when you fell... Why is it never enough?" The first tear stung her cheek.
He covered your palm with his. His hand was painfully warm.

"Feelings aren't math," each word hit me in the gut. "You're perfect. The closest person to me. But inside me... nothing resonates. Emptiness."

"Emptiness?" You smiled bitterly. "I burned myself to the ground to warm you, and you feel empty?"

"That's the problem," he gently removed his hand. "I didn't ask for this sacrifice. Now I only feel guilt. I want to run away because I won't give you what you deserve."

“Please,” you covered your face with your hands, “tell me there’s at least one chance in a million.”

"No," he snapped. The sound was short, like the click of a fuse. "The lie will kill you later, but even more painfully."

He stood up, left the money on the table and touched your shoulder for a moment:

• I'm sorry I'm not the one you need.

The door clinked, letting in the cold. You were left alone. A message from Mikel glowed on your phone screen: "I'll be there in five minutes. Don't say anything, just come out, I'll take you home."
The world didn't collapse. It simply turned gray, stripped of the last light you'd tried to hold on to for so long.