The phone rang again.
Rose reached for it slowly, her fingers hesitant, her heart already tight. When she saw 'Travis' on the screen, a small, hopeful thought flickered inside her chest. Maybe he wanted to meet. Maybe a walk.
She answered.
"Hello."
There was a pause on the other end. A breath. Then his voice—careful, distant.
"Rose… I think we need a break."
Her body stiffened.
He continued, words tumbling out like something he had practiced. "I don't think long-distance relationships work. Not for us. I don't want to hurt you later."
Silence swallowed the room.
Rose didn't speak. She didn't cry. She didn't move. Her mind went completely blank, as if someone had pressed pause on her thoughts. Seconds passed—too many of them—before she found her voice.
"Okay," she said quietly.
"As you say. It's your call."
And then she ended it.
The phone slipped from her hand onto the bed beside her. She stared at the wall in front of her, the same crack she had been watching earlier, but now it felt unfamiliar. Sharp. Heavy.
She didn't ask "why".
She didn't ask "when".
She didn't beg.
Instead, questions crowded her mind in silence.
"Did something happen?"
"Was he already gone before the call?"
"Or was I too far even before I left?"
The evening passed without her noticing.
She stayed in her room, the door closed, memories opening like wounds she hadn't prepared for—childhood laughter, shared secrets, his hand in hers, the way he used to look at her like she was home.
Her chest ached, but no tears came.
At dinner, she sat quietly at the table.
Her mother smiled softly. "How do you want to spend your remaining week with us, Rose?"
Her brother Steve grinned. "We should take her somewhere. One last family trip before she becomes a big university genius."
They laughed.
Rose didn't.
She stared at her plate, appetite gone, heart heavy with something she couldn't name. Then, finally, she spoke.
"I think I'll leave early," she said.
The table fell silent.
Her parents looked at her in surprise. "Early?" her father asked. "Why, sweetheart?"
Rose lifted her eyes slowly, her voice steady but distant.
"I just… think it's better."
Easier to leave.
Easier to breathe.
Easier to start over.
No one pushed her further.
But no one truly understood either.
She wasn't running toward her future.
She was running away from her past.
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