chapter 8
I took a seat by the window—the same seat where Kobe and I had sat that rainy afternoon. A couple sat across from me, laughing softly as they shared a slice of cake. For a moment, I felt a twinge of longing. Not for Kobe exactly, but for the version of us that had sat here once, full of hope.
My phone vibrated. This time, it was a call from Kobe. I stared at the screen, watching his name flash, then declined it. A minute later, another call. Declined. Then another.
I turned my phone on silent and set it face down on the table. The barista brought my coffee, and I took a sip. It was bitter—just like the truth I’d been avoiding for years.
Kobe wasn’t a bad person. He was just a selfish one. He’d never meant to hurt me, but he’d never bothered to try not to either. And I’d let him, because I was scared of being alone. Scared that six years of my life would amount to nothing if we ended things.
But sitting here in this coffee shop with the rain falling outside and a bitter coffee in my hand, I realized that six years of loving someone who couldn’t love me back was already nothing—or worse, something that had slowly chipped away at who I was.
I finished my coffee and stood up, feeling lighter than I had in months.
As I walked back to Sophie’s apartment, I passed Kobe’s car parked on the street. He was sitting inside, staring at his phone, and for a second our eyes met through the rain-streaked window. He looked surprised, then confused, then something else—regret, maybe, or just frustration that I wasn’t playing by his rules anymore.
I didn’t wave. I didn’t smile. I just kept walking.