Thank you, for listening

Chapter 23 : Goodbye

Sorry about this chapter...

The morning sun filtered through the blinds in Lucy's apartment, casting long shadows across the room. She held her coffee cup, cradling it as if it were an anchor to keep her grounded. The warmth seeped into her hands, but her insides felt cold, heavy. She hadn't slept. All night, the same thought gnawed at her mind, stealing any chance of peace.

Tim emerged from the bedroom, his hair still tousled, a faint smile on his face as he walked over to her. Without a word, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. His lips were soft, warm—familiar. But Lucy didn't move, her body rigid. She couldn't meet his eyes.

He drew back, concern flickering across his face. "Lucy? What's wrong?"

She set her coffee down, the clinking sound piercing the silence between them. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself, knowing this was it. The moment she had dreaded but knew she couldn't avoid. "Tim..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

His brows knitted together, his eyes filled with confusion. "Lucy?"

"I... we can't be together anymore," she said, each word feeling like a shard of glass cutting her from the inside.

"What?" Tim's voice was barely a whisper, a mixture of shock and disbelief.

She forced herself to look at him, seeing the pain she was inflicting. "My parents... They've arranged something else for me. They've made it clear. I have no choice."

"Lucy, this can't be real," he pleaded, his voice hoarse. "We can work through this. We're stronger than this."

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she shook her head. "Tim, it's too much. They're never going to accept us. They're never going to accept you. I... I have to do this."

Tim stared at her, his expression a mixture of devastation and understanding. She could see it in his eyes—the realization that she was telling the truth, that there was no changing her mind.

Without another word, he turned, his movements slow and defeated as he gathered his things. Lucy's heart screamed at her to stop him, to say this was all a mistake. But she forced herself to remain silent, knowing that if she broke now, it would only make things harder. He zipped his bag, his movements mechanical, and then he paused by the door.

He turned back one last time, his eyes searching hers, as if he were waiting for her to say something—to give him a reason to stay. But she couldn't. She forced herself to keep her expression blank, to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

With a resigned nod, he stepped out of the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him.

Tim's heart felt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces as he walked away from the apartment. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to do anything to release the pain clawing at his chest. The only thing he knew to do was to go to Angela's place. Angela was his friend, a detective he trusted, someone who understood the darkness of their jobs and the toll it took on their personal lives. And right now, she was the only person he felt he could lean on.

When he arrived at her door, it was barely eight in the morning. He knocked softly, not even sure what he would say. The door swung open, and Angela stood there, her expression shifting to concern as she took in the sight of him, disheveled and broken.

"Tim?" she asked softly, her voice gentle. "What happened?"

Without a word, he stepped forward, and she pulled him into a tight embrace, his body shaking as the tears he'd been holding back finally broke free. He cried on her shoulder, each sob tearing through him as he clung to her. Angela held him, saying nothing, just offering the quiet, comforting presence he so desperately needed.

After a while, he managed to speak, his voice choked and raw. "She... she broke up with me, Angela. Just... ended it. Her parents... they don't want her with me. She said there wasn't a choice." His hands trembled, and he clenched them into fists, trying to hold back the renewed wave of pain.

"Oh, Tim," Angela murmured, her heart aching for him. She gently guided him to the couch, sitting beside him and rubbing his back as he continued to talk, letting out the hurt and the sorrow that had built up inside him.

"Just yesterday, everything was fine. We were... we were planning for the future, talking about everything." He looked down, his face etched with anguish. "And now... she's just gone."

Angela squeezed his shoulder, offering him a tissue. "Tim, you're one of the best people I know. Don't let them make you feel like you're not enough."

He nodded, though the weight of the pain remained. "Thanks, Angela. I just... I don't know what to do now."

She sat beside him, offering silent support as he processed the loss, the finality of it all sinking in.

Back at her apartment, Lucy felt like a ghost of herself. She could still feel Tim's presence lingering in the air, the familiar warmth he had brought into her life now replaced by an aching emptiness. Her mother's voice echoed in her mind, urging her to call and give her the news.

With trembling fingers, she dialed her mother's number, pressing the phone to her ear. The second her mother picked up, Lucy's voice felt hollow. "It's done, Mom. I broke up with him."

A pause, and then her mother's voice, filled with a surprising amount of joy. "Oh, Lucy, you made the right decision. I knew you'd see sense. This is for the best, trust me."

But Lucy couldn't feel any satisfaction, any relief. Instead, a profound sadness washed over her, the pain deepening as her mother's happiness contrasted so sharply with her own sorrow.

"I'm glad you're happy," Lucy managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You'll thank me one day," her mother continued, oblivious to Lucy's pain. "This is the first step toward a better future. Trust in that."

"Yeah, okay," Lucy replied, her heart feeling heavy, her chest tight. She ended the call, staring blankly at the walls of her empty apartment.

That night, the silence felt unbearable. Every corner of the apartment reminded her of Tim—the lingering scent of his cologne, the memory of his laughter, the way he made her feel seen and valued. She pulled her knees to her chest as she sat on the couch, letting the grief wash over her.

As the hours dragged on, Lucy allowed herself to remember every moment they had shared. The laughter, the gentle kisses, the way he held her close, as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She clung to those memories, the only remnants of him she had left, the warmth of those moments offering a small comfort amidst the ache.

Finally, exhausted and broken, Lucy curled up in bed, clutching one of Tim's old shirts to her chest. She buried her face in the soft fabric, inhaling the faint scent that still lingered. Tears spilled onto the pillow as she cried herself to sleep, the pain of his absence a raw wound that she feared would never heal.