Elion stopped waiting.
Not for footsteps.
Not for apologies.
Not for love.
Days turned into weeks. The room no longer smelled like her. The silence became manageable. Familiar.
He worked longer hours. Spoke less. Learned how to keep his chest empty.
People noticed the change.
He smiled when spoken to. Helped when asked. But there was something distant in his eyes, like someone who had already lost what mattered most.
At night, he dreamed of her standing at the doorway, unable to step inside.
He always woke up alone.
She returned once.
Not to him.
She stood across the street, hidden beneath a hood, watching his window glow softly in the dark. Her chest ached as she listened to his laugh through the glass.
He sounded… fine.
That hurt more than if he had been broken.
She almost knocked.
Almost.
Fear won.
She turned away before he could open the door.
Inside, Elion paused mid step.
For a moment, he thought he felt her presence.
He shook it off.
Love had taught him not to trust that feeling.
That night, she whispered his name into the dark and pressed her hand against her mouth to silence the sob.
"I am sorry," she said to no one.
But apologies meant nothing if they were never heard.
And Elion never heard it.