Look back, she thought.
Call out my name, he thought.
The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound his footsteps. He took one step. One step towards the door. One step farther from her. Two. Three.
It was a game they played. How far can he go without looking back, without missing a step. How far can she let him go without her asking him to say, without her calling his name.
He was at the door, reaching for the handle.
Dammit, stay, she wanted to say.
He sighed. She held her breath.
“I’m leaving,” he said without turning back. The knob clicked as he opened the door.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears started to cloud her vision.
“I know. I am, too.”
With that he left. He left her. The room smelled of sun-kissed flowers.
Damn her pride. Damn his weakness. Damn it all, love is bittersweet.
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