Epilogue
Izzy
Istand in the middle of my dorm room, the buzz of the night still in my veins, but a heaviness settles in my chest I can’t shake.
The door is still ajar, and the streetlight outside casts a long shadow across the floor.
The city hums around me, alive and restless, yet I feel disconnected.
Like I’m standing outside of everything.
My phone buzzes in my hand, shattering the stillness. I glance down, expecting a half-hearted message from Xavier or a reminder from the bar about work tomorrow. But it’s not.
"You need to come home. It's time."
I stare at the message, and the words hit like a punch to the gut. My pulse quickens. My breath catches. But it’s not the message itself that does it. The name at the top of the screen is what catches me off guard.
It’s from my dad. And just like that, the ground beneath me cracks wide open.
I swallow hard. He never texts. He barely calls.
I’m the one who usually calls him because he gives me space.
It’s times like this that I wish my mom were still alive.
She’d know what to do. Whatever this is, it feels different.
It feels like something is shifting under my feet, pulling me back to a place I’ve spent years trying to outrun.
I turn away from the door, walking through the dim room like I’m trapped in slow motion.
Every part of me tells me to ignore it, to stay where I am, where it’s safe, where I don’t have to feel anything.
But the weight of the message lingers in the air, and a single question circles in my mind: What if this is real?
I’m still not ready. I never will be.
My hands shake as I grab my hoodie. The fabric is warm against my skin as I pull it on, but I hesitate.
For a moment, I think about calling Xavier.
About hearing his voice again. About grounding myself in something or someone solid.
But the thought slips away as quickly as it came.
He’s part of the past now and has a family.
A fire that burned too bright and too fast, leaving nothing but embers in its wake.
With one last look at the empty dorm room, the only place I’ve ever let myself belong, I pull open the door and step into the cool night air.
The city moves around me, endless and indifferent.
The streetlights flicker, casting fleeting shadows on the pavement.
A car horn blares in the distance. The tension in my chest builds with every step away from the safety of my dorm and toward whatever is waiting for me.
With each step, the space between me and what I’m running from grows smaller.
I don’t know what’s waiting for me, but I know I can’t outrun it anymore.
I’m not ready to face whatever it is, but I don’t have a choice.
XAVIER
I sit on the edge of the couch, elbows on my knees, staring at nothing. The TV’s still on, but I muted it hours ago. The screen’s glow barely cuts through the darkness of my house. Feels fitting.
My phone sits heavy in my hand. I don’t even have to look at it. I already know there’s nothing new. No messages. No calls. Just the silence pressing in around me.
I can still hear her voice from earlier, slurred with too much tequila and regret. "I’ll be fine. I always am."
It’s a lie. One she tells herself as much as she tells me. And I let her say it. I let her go, again.
I should’ve handled things differently after that night. I should’ve gone after her. I should’ve fought for her. I should’ve told her she didn’t have to run, that we’d figure it out together. But instead of chasing her, I stood there like a fucking idiot, watching her slip away.
I don’t even know why she left without talking to me first. I don’t even know what she saw or who told her what.
I know she didn’t believe me, and I know I didn’t cheat on her.
I didn’t betray her. I didn’t do the one thing that shattered everything between us.
But she doesn’t believe that. And I don’t know how to make her see the truth.
I run a hand down my face, exhaling hard.
Izzy wasn’t supposed to mean this much. I told myself I wouldn’t let her get under my skin again. That I wouldn’t let her leaving wreck me a second time.
But she did, and it does.
She’s spent years building walls, and for one damn night, I thought I’d finally broken through. Maybe, just maybe, she’d let me in. But morning came, and so did the doubts. Hers. Mine.
I should’ve told her it was okay and that we’d fix this. That she didn’t have to run. Instead, I let her slip away. Now she’s gone, and I don’t know if she’ll ever come back.
My grip tightens around the phone. I could call her back. Hell, I want to. But she needs space, and for once, I need to respect that. It doesn’t stop me from wishing she’d change her mind. That she’d come home.
I stare at the screen with the picture of the two of us, the ache in my chest making it harder to breathe.
I know she’s scared. I know she thinks this is the only way, but she’s wrong. I don’t know how to make her see it.
So I wait because I don’t know what else to do. And if waiting is the only way to prove I’m not giving up on her, then I’ll fucking wait.
Even if it kills me.