October Odyssey III
Cowards, the both of us.
She hadn’t told anyone, but Elise had been dreaming in reverse lately. Old conversations played out differently. Sometimes he stayed. Sometimes she asked him to.
But morning always arrived, and memory was less forgiving.
It had been three months since that café. Since the rain, since the look in his eyes. Since she walked away without waiting to be stopped.
Now, spring was crawling back into the city. The kind of warmth that made the air feel like it remembered things too.
Elise sat on her balcony, feet tucked beneath her, a cup of tea untouched beside her. She opened her journal to a page she barely remembered writing.
In the end, it wasn't fate or circumstance that tore us apart. It was fear. It wore different faces - silence when words were needed, distance when closeness begged to stay. And so, we walked away - not because we didn't care, but because fear made us believe we had no other choice.
She didn’t cry. It just made her.. still.
She didn’t know where Carter was now. Maybe that was kinder than knowing. There was a time when she thought love had to be all-consuming, or else it wasn't real. But lately, Elise had started to wonder if peace could feel like love too. Not fireworks, but warmth. Not declarations, but presence.
This part of her life wasn’t about him anymore. It was about the version of Elise who stayed with herself this time. The one who didn’t chase or wait, who didn't bolt. The one learning that absence could be a kind of answer too.
She picked up her pen and wrote a new line:
Next time, I won't let fear speak louder than love.
Maybe October would come again with different questions. Maybe she wouldn’t need all the answers.
Not yet.
Somewhere between the hesitant warmth of March and the unraveling stillness of April, she had, in the most silent rebellion, chosen herself - resolutely, devastatingly.
The final act of love is letting go.