For the Last Time: A One Shot Story

FOR THE LAST TIME

FOR THE LAST TIME

Napakasikip sa loob ng court.

Napakaraming tao ang dumating upang saksihan ang Intercontinental Finals—Championship Night. I considered myself lucky because I had bought my ticket early.

Nakakabingi ang hiyawan ng mga tao as they cheered for their respective teams. The players hadn't come out yet. They were still in their respective quarters, preparing for the game.

I came here to witness something very special.

His dream.

A dream that, once upon a time, used to be mine, too.

I sat on the side of the opposing team.

I slowly scanned the entire court.

Sa kabilang side, puro pula. May mga mascot, cheerleaders, banners, and fans wearing their team's uniforms. The entire section was alive with excitement.

Then I saw them.

His family.

They were seated on the other side of the court.

His brother.

His mother.

His father.

My chest suddenly tightened.

A wave of nostalgia swept over me, followed by a familiar, excruciating pain that I had spent seven years trying to bury.

I felt something warm roll down my cheek.

I tried to stop it.

But my tears had already betrayed me.

I immediately looked away from them and forced myself to focus on the event.

I miss them.

I miss him.

So much.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to our Championship Night!" the announcer boomed through the speakers. "Before our players come out, let us first give a round of applause to the dance group of Forks International Academy!"

The crowd erupted.

The teenagers in front of us began their performance, moving through energetic choreography as the audience screamed and cheered. A cheerdance performance followed, and for a few minutes, the tension between the two teams seemed to disappear.

I barely paid attention.

My mind was somewhere else.

Everything was still fresh.

I knew it was partly my fault.

For seven years, I had declined his calls, ignored his messages, and pushed him away.

I knew he wasn't responsible for what I had seen.

I knew he loved me.

I knew he had never betrayed me.

But leaving him had been the only way I knew how to protect him.

I had planned it long before that morning.

I had tried to find a reason to leave him.

But every time I did, I ended up crying.

I couldn't stand the thought of walking away.

And I couldn't stand the thought of watching him grieve because of me.

So I waited.

Until fate handed me the perfect excuse.