Champagne Problems // English's Version

Chapter 18: A Past That Won't Let Go

Agatha sat by the window of her small apartment, absentmindedly watching the rain slowly fall. Every drop that hit the glass seemed to accompany her thoughts, which always returned to Kyle, to their past together, to everything they had experienced.
She thought about that night, when they had broken up, how, since then, she had done nothing but brood over every single moment.
A tear slid down her face, followed by others, silent and slow. «Is it really over?» she wondered, almost voiceless. She couldn't shake the idea that maybe she would never see Kyle again, that this chapter of her life was now closed forever. The pain in her chest was oppressive, as if the air itself had become too thick to breathe. Kyle was no longer in her life, and maybe he never would be again.

Across the country, Kyle was in a crowded pub in New York. The place was noisy, the lights dim, and the music too loud for real conversation.
He was sitting at the table with his new colleagues from the prestigious law firm where he had been working for a few months. They had decided to celebrate the closing of an important contract and he, even though he wasn't in the mood, had agreed to join the group.

One of his new colleagues was an old friend from college, someone who also knew Agatha well. Between one laugh and another, his friend raised his glass, a smile of someone who had drunk too much plastered on his face, and said: «You know, Kyle... Agatha would have been the perfect bride for you, too bad she was too complicated!» The sentence came out lightly, followed by a loud laugh, while his colleague leaned on the table with a sly expression, raising his glass in a toast.

Kyle remained still. The glass in his hand seemed to have suddenly become heavy. His friend's words hit him like a punch in the stomach. He hadn't expected to hear someone talk about Agatha that night, or in that way. The smile he'd been trying to maintain faded instantly, giving way to a serious, distant expression.

«Complicated.» he repeated in his mind.

The word kept ringing. Agatha had been so many things: brilliant, passionate, sweet... and yes, complicated. But she'd been the woman he'd loved more than anything, the one he'd do anything for. Their relationship hadn't been perfect, but the love he'd felt for her, and still felt, was real, deep, visceral.

Kyle couldn't answer, left alone with his thoughts as the din of the pub mingled with the sound of glasses and laughter around him. He felt completely out of place, as if he'd suddenly been catapulted into another dimension, far from that carefree evening. His friends continued to joke and laugh, unaware of the turmoil forming inside him.

It had been months since he and Agatha had broken up. Everything had changed, or so it seemed. He had changed cities, jobs, and lives. But one thing hadn't changed: his love for her.

Kyle knew that, despite everything, Agatha would remain in his heart. He had never been able to forget her, and probably never would. Even now, as he was miles away from her, the memories of Agatha continued to haunt him, keeping him tied to a past that didn't seem to want to fade away.

He put his glass down without taking a sip, rising from the table without a word. «Are you okay?» his friend asked, noticing the sudden change in his demeanor.

Kyle nodded slightly, smiling tiredly. «Yeah, I just need some air.» he replied in a low voice, walking out of the pub and leaving the deafening noise behind him.

Once outside, the winter cold hit him in the face, but it didn't seem strong enough to shake him. He walked for a few minutes along the street lit by street lamps, his mind lost in memories. Agatha, with her smiles and her demons. Agatha, with her fragility and her strength. Despite all their difficulties, he knew that a part of him would love her forever.

As he walked, he took his wallet from his coat pocket and pulled out that old photo of the two of them together. It was creased and the edges were worn by time, but he still kept it there, hidden among the papers, as if somehow it could keep him anchored to what he had lost. He looked at it for a long time, squeezing it between his fingers, wondering once again if he could have done something different, if he could have saved her.