Chasing the puck

Chapter Thirty

The cold air from the balcony bit at Sarah’s skin as she stared out over the twinkling city lights below. Her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, as though she could protect herself from the storm of emotions swirling inside. After days spent contemplating what her life would be like if she left Tyler, she was no closer to clarity. The thought of walking away from someone she loved so deeply felt like a part of her would be torn out, but beneath the pain, there was a strange sense of peace. The idea of leaving behind the constant arguments, the tension, the emotional strain… it gave her a glimpse of a life where she wasn’t weighed down by the heaviness of their broken relationship.

But then, her mind would betray her, bringing back flashes of Tyler—the way he’d held her after her father’s funeral, the tender moments where she felt so safe in his arms, like everything was going to be okay. That was the hardest part. There were still good memories, but they were being buried under the weight of what they’d become. She felt like she was standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to take the leap into the unknown or stay and continue to fight for something that might be beyond saving.

A shiver ran down her spine, not just from the cold, but from the gravity of the decision looming ahead. She turned away from the balcony and stepped back into the apartment, the emptiness greeting her like a familiar companion. Tyler wasn’t home yet, and for a moment, she was grateful for the silence. But she knew it wouldn’t last.

Tyler came home later that night, the sound of his keys clattering onto the counter breaking the quiet. He didn’t say anything as he collapsed onto the couch, too tired from his day to notice the tension filling the space. Sarah sat on the opposite end of the couch, knees drawn up to her chest as the TV played in the background, filling the silence neither of them seemed willing to break.

She glanced over at him briefly, taking in his tired posture, the way his shoulders slumped. He looked defeated, just as drained as she felt. But the emotional distance between them was something that felt impossible to bridge. The room was heavy with unspoken words, things that should’ve been said weeks ago, but neither of them knew how to begin. Every time she thought about reaching out, the exhaustion washed over her, making her retreat further into herself. She had been the one trying to fix things for so long, but now… she didn’t have the energy to keep fighting.

Tyler shifted slightly, as if he could sense her pulling away. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his hoodie, a nervous habit that Sarah recognized but couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge. He glanced at her, hoping for some kind of connection, but all he saw was her distant expression, eyes focused on the TV but clearly lost in thought. The emotional gap between them was widening with each passing day, and Tyler could feel it like a physical weight pressing down on his chest.

“How was your day?” he asked, his voice quiet, strained.

“Fine,” Sarah replied, not looking up. It was a simple answer, but one that carried so much beneath it—an emotional distance that Tyler could feel but didn’t know how to close.

The silence that followed was thick, oppressive. Tyler had never felt this disconnected from Sarah, and it scared him. But every time he tried to reach out, it felt forced, like he was grasping at something that was slipping through his fingers. He didn’t know how to fix this, and the fear of losing her was starting to take its toll.

The next morning, Sarah found herself sitting across from Summer at their usual café, the warm scent of coffee doing little to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in her chest. She stared down at her cup, swirling the foam absentmindedly, her mind far from the conversation. Summer had always been her rock, the one person who could see through her walls. But today, even her friend’s comforting presence couldn’t pull Sarah out of the storm of emotions swirling inside.