Hearts on the Run

Separate Paths

Mia stood by the window, her hands gripping the edge of the curtains as she watched the rain drizzle down onto the cracked asphalt of the small-town parking lot. The light patter of raindrops against the glass was soothing, but it did nothing to calm the storm that raged inside her.

She'd made up her mind.

She had to leave.

Behind her, the small motel room was silent. Liam had gone out for a walk earlier, saying he needed some air. Mia knew he was giving her space after everything that had happened over the past few days—the accident, their argument, the emotional unraveling. Too much had come to the surface too quickly, and now, there was nowhere left to hide.

Mia's suitcase lay half-packed on the bed. She stared at it, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to stay, to see where this strange, unexpected connection with Liam might lead. But her fear—her old, familiar fear—whispered louder.

You're not ready.

You'll only get hurt again.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled the curtains shut and turned to finish packing. Her clothes were hastily folded, thrown into the suitcase in a way that reflected her state of mind—scattered, rushed, unsure. She zipped it up, each click of the zipper feeling like a final, irreversible decision.

As she sat on the edge of the bed, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Mia pulled it out, seeing a message from someone she had reached out to earlier that morning—an old college friend who lived in the next state over. They had offered her a ride the moment she had mentioned needing one.

"I'll be there in an hour," the text read.

Mia's heart clenched. An hour. That was all the time she had left before she'd have to say goodbye to Liam for good.

She didn't know if she was ready. But she knew staying would only make things worse. She had already let him in more than she had intended, and now it was too late to pull back without causing even more damage. The kiss, the argument, the way he had looked at her when she broke down—it was all too much, too soon.

Maybe she wasn't capable of trusting anyone right now. Maybe Liam deserved better than someone who was still running from her past.

The door creaked open, and Mia's breath caught in her throat. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Liam. His presence filled the room, familiar and warm, but today it felt heavier, more suffocating.

"Mia?" His voice was cautious, as if he could sense something was wrong.

Mia stood, swallowing hard before turning to face him. He looked the same as he always did—worn jeans, a faded T-shirt, and that carefree smile that barely masked the weight of his own past. But there was something different in his eyes. Worry. Hesitation.

"Liam," she said softly, her voice wavering.

His gaze dropped to the suitcase on the bed, and his smile faded. "You're leaving."

It wasn't a question. He knew.

Mia nodded, unable to find the right words. The tension between them was palpable, a mix of unspoken feelings and the deep, aching sadness that came with the knowledge that this—whatever it was between them—was about to end.

"Why?" Liam asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mia bit her lip, her throat tight. "I... I have to."

"You don't have to," he said quickly, stepping toward her. His eyes were pleading, searching hers for something—some sign that she wasn't going to walk out of his life. "Mia, you don't have to do this."