Unconditionally

Torn Apart

Stella's POV

The sound of the arena door closing behind me echoed like a final farewell, each footstep heavy as I walked away from Arnold. My mind was spinning, heart shattered, and no matter how hard I tried to hold back the tears, they poured down my face uncontrollably. I couldn't stop them. My chest felt tight, as if the air itself was turning against me.

Arnold had to leave. Again.

The words bounced around in my head, taunting me like they had been all night since the fight began. How many times had he said he was leaving? How many times had he pulled away just as we were getting close? This time, though—it felt different. Worse. More final. It felt like the end.

I tried to breathe, to steady my heart, but it was like every breath hurt. The thought of him leaving, of not being by my side, made the world feel cold and hollow. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that every time things started to feel right, he was yanked away, leaving me behind with nothing but the ache in my chest and the weight of the emptiness.

Arnold's voice was still fresh in my head, pleading with me to understand. "I don't have a choice, Stella. My family needs me."

Family. There was always a reason, always something pulling him back to the States. And I knew, deep down, that he had to go, that he wasn't just abandoning me on a whim. But knowing didn't make it any easier. It didn't make the hurt go away.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. I couldn't talk to anyone right now—not Jenli, not Allison—no one could understand this gnawing feeling, this all-consuming fear that this would be the last time. The last time I'd see him. The last time I'd feel his arms around me. I wiped my eyes furiously, but the tears wouldn't stop. It was like they had been waiting for this moment all along.

I walked faster, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the arena, but every step further away from Arnold felt like another crack in my heart. And when I heard the sound of footsteps behind me, his voice calling my name, I wanted so badly to turn around and run back into his arms. But I didn't.

"Stella, wait!" Arnold's voice was desperate, but I kept going, my heart hammering in my chest. "Please... I didn't mean for it to be like this."

I stopped. My whole body was trembling, and I clenched my fists, trying to hold myself together. Slowly, I turned to face him, seeing the same heartache reflected in his eyes that I felt in my own. His face was streaked with tears, and for a moment, I thought maybe, just maybe, we could fix this.

But the truth hung between us like an insurmountable wall.

"I can't keep doing this, Arnold," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Every time you leave, I feel like you're taking a part of me with you. And I don't know if I can handle it anymore."

He stepped closer, his hands reaching out for mine, but I flinched back. I couldn't let him touch me—not now. Not when I felt like I was breaking apart inside.

"Stella, I never wanted to hurt you. You know that," he said, his voice cracking. "But I can't just stay here. My dad—he needs me. I don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice," I said, a tear slipping down my cheek. "You just never choose me."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them, and I saw the pain flash across his face, deepening the crack between us. I hated myself for saying it, but it was the truth. I had spent so much time waiting for Arnold, hoping he would stay, but it was never enough. I was never enough.

"Stella..." His voice broke, and I could see the struggle in his eyes, the war raging inside of him. But I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't keep pretending that I was okay with being left behind.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, turning away from him once more. "But I can't do this anymore."

He let out a shaky breath, pulling me into his arms. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. We stood there, wrapped in the warmth of each other, as the world around us seemed to stand still.

And then, without thinking, I lifted my head to look up at him, our faces inches apart. His eyes were filled with so much emotion, so much uncertainty, and before I could stop myself, I leaned in.

Our lips met in a kiss that wasn't at all how I'd imagined. There were no fireworks, no slow-motion movie moments. Instead, it was rushed, filled with desperation and sadness. It was messy—our lips didn't quite align at first, and my heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst.

But despite the imperfection, there was something raw and real in that kiss. It wasn't about romance or fairy tales; it was about the pain of losing each other, about trying to hold on to something that was slipping through our fingers.

When we pulled away, I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes again, and Arnold rested his forehead against mine. "I love you, Stella," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don't know what happens next, but I love you."

I swallowed hard, the words catching in my throat. I wanted to say it back—I felt it too—but the reality of him leaving was suffocating me.

Instead, I just nodded, closing my eyes as the tears spilled over. "I don't want to lose you," I admitted, my voice breaking.

"We'll find a way," he promised, his grip on me tightening.

But as we stood there in the cold, both of us holding on to each other like lifelines, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end. No matter how hard we fought to stay connected, life had other plans.

The kiss lingered on my lips, bittersweet and imperfect, just like us. And as much as I wanted to believe his words, a part of me knew that no matter how much we loved each other, sometimes love wasn't enough to keep everything from falling apart.