After The Fall

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎: 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝙳𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚂𝚊𝚢

I don't remember the color of the sky that day.

Just the cold.

The way it clung to my skin, slipped under my clothes like it belonged there.

The rain didn't pour—it sank. Quiet and steady, like the world has already decided this was a goodbye. Like it was mourning something I hadn't even lost yet.

He stood just a few feet in front of me.

Dripping.

Still.

And somehow, despite the way my heart felt like it was cracking in two, he looked... fine. Calm. Like he'd already made peace with what was happening.

I didn't see his face that day.

Not really.

Maybe I didn't want to.

Maybe deep down I knew—if I looked him in the eyes and saw the end there...I wouldn't be able to walk away. I wouldn't have the strength to let go. Not when I still loved him.

So I didn't say a word.

Didn't reach out.

Didn't beg.

Didn't cry.

I just nodded.

The smallest, most pathetic little nod. But that was it. That was everything I couldn't say. All the stuff stuck in my throat, caged behind ribs that felt too tight.

The rain kept falling.

Neither of us moved.

And then... he turned.

Hands shoved in his coat pockets, shoulder relaxed like this wasn't tearing me apart.

He didn't look back. Not even once.

His footsteps faded, step by step, like someone slowly turning down the volume on a song I didn't want to end.

I stayed there.

Drenched.

Freezing.

Silent.

My fingers curled around the chain of my neck so tight I thought it might snap. But I didn't let go.

The truth is... that moment didn't start there, in the rain. It started long before.

Before the silence.

Before the distance.

Before I let fear get in the way of everything I should've said.

I used to think that love—real love—was enough.

That if you cared enough, if you tried hard enough, people stayed.

But they don't.

They leave.

Even when you love them with everything inside of you.

He slipped through my fingers, not because I didn't care, but because I never figured out how to hold on. Because I was too scared. Because when it mattered most... I stayed quiet.

And suddenly, in the middle of that storm, all I could think about was home.

My brothers and the way they used to fight over the remote like it was sacred.

Long car rides where they'd knock out on my shoulder like it was the most natural thing.

My mom, yelling from the kitchen—tired, overworked, and somehow still standing.

My dad, leaving before the sun even thought about rising.

And my abuelita.

Her hugs.

God, her hugs.

She always hugged me like she knew I was falling apart before I even said a word.

I told myself I was just growing up. That I was busy. That I didn't have time.

But really... I was running.

From them. From myself. From everything.

If I could go back...

I'd do it all differently.

I'd say something.

I'd fight harder.

I'd be braver.

I'd tell him he mattered to me. That I believed in him. That he was never alone, not really.

I'd stop waiting for the perfect moment.

Because the truth?

There isn't one.

There's only now.

And now... was gone

I turned around.

And that's when I saw the headlights.

Fast.

Bright.

Too fast.

My heart slammed against my ribs, but my body didn't move. Not in time.

A screech.

A blur of white.

Then—nothing.

No pain.

No sound.

No fear.

Just... quiet.

Like the world had let out one final breath.

And then—

Everything went dark.