The Keys to freedom

Shadows

Last year

The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains of Oz's bedroom, illuminating silvery streaks across her room. She sat on the edge of her bed, her phone buzzing intermittently with messages from friends, but she felt adrift in a sea of thoughts, the quiet ache of her breakup still fresh. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she'd ended things with Pyke. The decision felt like a weight lifted, yet somehow heavier all at once.

As she stared at the ceiling, trying to quiet her racing mind, a soft thud against the window jolted her back to reality. She glanced over, heart racing, there he was, swaying slightly, a half-empty liquor bottle clutched in his hand. His familiar face was lit by the glow of the moon, and despite everything, he looked so heartbreakingly vulnerable.

"Oz!" he called softly, a slurred urgency in his voice. "Open up!"

She told herself to turn away, to ignore him, but instead she found herself approaching the window cursing to herself as she slid it open.

"What are you doing here Pyke?" she asked, trying to mask her concern, with resentment.

"Can I come in?" he pleaded, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I just want to talk. Please."

Against her better judgment, she stepped aside, allowing him in. The moment he crossed the threshold, she was engulfed by his warmth, the familiar scent of him—cologne and something deeper, something that felt like home.

"Wow," he said, looking around her room, "it feels different. I don't like it." he slurried his words.

"It's the same as it always was," she replied, crossing her arms. "You're the one who's different, you're drunk."

He frowned at her. "Well that's what happens when your girlfriend breaks your heart, and doesn't even give you a reason for it,"

She bit her lip, caught between her feelings and the reasons that had led to their breakup. He stepped closer, and softly pinched the tip of her nose, rubbing it with his thumb, something he often did out of affection. "I just... I want to understand. I want to make things right. Whatever I did, I promise I can change. I can be better."

She leaned deeper into his touch. It felt so easy to just fall back into their rhythm, where laughter came easily and nights stretched on without worry. But beneath that yearning, was pain, memories she couldn't shake. Memories of that day—of darkness, betrayal, and fear.

"Pyke," she began, her voice breaking.

He stepped even closer leaning down to rest his forehead on hers, his hand trailing down the sides of her face. "I love you," he whispers, so low she could barely hear it.

She sighed deeply grabbing the bottom of his shirt and playing with the end. "I love you to,"

"Then stay with me," he says his lips brushing over hers as they shared the same breaths. Her lips almost give in to him but she shook her head, and pushed herself back creating distant between them "it's not just about us, Pyke. I... I can't go back to how things were."

He frowned, confusion clouding his features. "What do you mean?"

She took another step back, her mind racing. She hadn't intended to reveal anything, yet the urge to explain everything clawed at her. "It's complicated. I just... I need space. I need to figure things out for myself."

"Space?" His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair. "But why? What happened? Did I do something? Just tell me what I can do."

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she only shook her head.

He stepped forward, reaching for her hand, his touch sending electric shivers through her. "I can be there for you. Whatever you need."

For a brief moment, she saw the possibility in his eyes, the genuine care that had drawn her to him in the first place. But that spark was dimmed by the shadows of the past. "You can't fix this, Pyke. Not with love or with promises, at least not right now."

He searched her face, looking for the truth in her eyes. "What are you so afraid of?" His voice was soft, almost pleading. "Just tell me, Oz."

She looked away, biting back the emotions threatening to spill over. "I can't." The words felt like a lead weight in her throat. "If I told you what happened, if I told you why. You would never look at me the same again."

He frowned "so are.." he paused not even wanting to ask it. "Are the rumors true, did you cheat on me?"

Her heart broke at his question, but she gently shook her head.

He threw his hands up in the air "So that's it? You're not going to tell me anything, you're just going to shut me out?"

"I'm not shutting you out. I'm protecting myself."

"From me?" His asked.

"I told you, this isn't about us," She clenched her jaw, the pain of her memories pushing up against her walls. "You don't know what I'm dealing with right now," she whispered.

"Then tell me! I want to know. I want to be there for you!" His voice cracked, a sound that tugged at her heart.

But she couldn't. She wouldn't. Not tonight. Not ever, if she could help it.

The silence stretched between them. Finally, she took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I think you should go."

His face fell, the hope fading from his eyes, but he knew there was nothing more he could do or say, so he took a step back and nodded softly, retreating to the window.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

As he climbed out into the night, she felt an ache deep in her chest—sorrow for what could have been and relief for what was not. She closed the window softly, sealing off the outside world.