Eternal Ephemerals

Three steps back

Olivia stared at the phone in her hand, the screen glowing softly in the dim light of her bedroom. The message was simple—a few short words, innocent enough at a glance. "Hey, I hope you're doing okay." But it was the name at the top of the screen that made her heart twist painfully, made her fingers tremble as they hovered above the keyboard.

George.

It had been four months since they had last spoken. Four months since she had finally decided to stop waiting for him to make up his mind. She remembered it with agonizing clarity: the day she had deleted his contact, removed him from her social media, and blocked his number. But she hadn't been able to block him from everything. His messages still managed to sneak through the cracks, like the one social app she had forgotten, or the old email address she barely used. She had tried so hard to shut the door, but he had a way of finding the smallest gaps, of slipping back into her life as if he belonged there.

And now, here he was again. Slipping back in with a few simple words. And Olivia didn't know what to do. A part of her wanted to throw the phone across the room, to scream, to tell him to leave her alone once and for all. But another part of her—one she had tried so hard to bury—ached at the sight of his name, at the memory of his smile, the way he used to make her laugh. She missed him. God, she missed him so much.

She hated herself for it. Hated that after everything, he could still make her heart race with something other than anger. He had let her go so easily, hadn't fought for her, hadn't even tried to change her mind. When she had finally broken down in front of him, tears mingling with raindrops as she told him she couldn't keep waiting for a man who wasn't ready, he'd just looked at her—looked at her like he knew she was right. And he'd let her walk away.

Olivia leaned back against the pillows, her head tipping back as she closed her eyes. She thought about all the things she had done to move on. She had thrown herself into her work, taken up running in the mornings, reconnected with friends she had lost touch with. She had started painting again, filling her apartment with canvases covered in bright, hopeful colors. She had laughed. She had even gone on a few dates, tried to see herself with someone new. And she'd been okay—at least, she'd told herself that she was.

But now, with just a few words, George had undone her. All the progress, all the strength she had built, seemed to crumble under the weight of that simple message. "Hey, I hope you're doing okay." What did he want? Why now? Did he miss her, or was he just checking to see if she was still there, still waiting in the wings for whenever he decided he might be ready?

She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling as tears stung at the corners of her eyes. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to be the kind of person who could just delete the message and never look back. But her heart ached, and the empty space inside her seemed to widen with each second she stared at his name on her screen.

She remembered the way he used to look at her—how his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he smiled, how he would pull her close, his arms wrapped around her as if nothing in the world could ever come between them. She remembered the good times, the laughter, the late-night conversations that had made her feel like she was truly known, truly understood. She had believed, back then, that what they had was real, that it was something worth fighting for.

But when she needed him most, when she needed him to step up, to choose her, he had hesitated. He had looked at her with those sad eyes, his hands in his pockets, and he hadn't said a word. And Olivia had known—knew that he would always be just out of reach, that no matter how much she loved him, he would never be ready to meet her where she was.

And now here he was, reaching out with a simple message, and Olivia felt herself unraveling all over again. She wanted to respond, to ask him why, to demand an answer for all the nights she had cried herself to sleep, wondering what she had done wrong. But what good would it do? What could he possibly say that would make any of it better?

She felt the tears spill over, sliding down her cheeks as she clenched her jaw. She had worked so hard to move on, to rebuild herself after the devastation of losing him. And now she was faced with the choice—to let him back in and risk losing herself all over again, or to stand firm and protect the fragile strength she had managed to find.

Olivia took a deep breath, her fingers trembling as they hovered over the screen. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to choose herself, to show that she was worth more than someone's afterthought. But it hurt. God, it hurt so much.

She let her eyes fall shut, her heart pounding. The truth was, she still loved him. Despite everything, despite the pain, she still loved him. And that love had been a part of her for so long, it felt almost impossible to let go. But she had to. She knew she had to. Because if she let him back in, if she opened that door even a little, she knew he would step through, and she would lose herself all over again.

She opened her eyes, staring at his message one more time, the words blurring as fresh tears filled her eyes. And then, slowly, she moved her finger to the screen and pressed delete. The message disappeared, and with it, a piece of her heart seemed to shatter.

It hurt. God, it hurt more than anything. But as the tears fell, she felt a small flicker of something else—a spark of determination, of strength. She had walked away once before, and she could do it again. She could choose herself, even if it meant facing this ache, this emptiness.

She put the phone down on her bedside table, her hands still trembling, her breath catching in her throat. She curled up on her side, her arms wrapping around herself, and she let the tears come. She cried for the love she had lost, for the dreams that would never come true, for the part of herself that she had given away and could never get back.

And as the tears finally began to slow, Olivia realized something. She realized that walking away from George hadn't been about forgetting him or erasing the love she had felt. It was about choosing herself over the pain he had caused her. It was about believing that she deserved more than someone who only reached out when he was lonely or uncertain.

Maybe, one day, it wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe, one day, she would think of him and feel only a distant ache, a memory of what could have been. But for now, she would let herself grieve. She would let herself feel the loss, the heartbreak. And then, slowly, she would move forward.

Because she deserved more than George could give her. She deserved a love that was real, that was steady and true. And one day, she would find it.