The next morning felt different.
Not in the way mornings usually do - the sun still filtered softly through my curtains, the kettle still whistled downstairs, and the world carried on as if nothing had changed. But inside me, something had shifted.
Ryan was leaving.
And now every ordinary thing felt temporary.
I found myself walking down Hawthorne Street later that afternoon, hands tucked into my coat pockets, letting my feet take me somewhere familiar. The pavement was still dmap from last night's rain, and the air carried that crisp, almost sweet scent of early autumn.
Hawthorne Street had always been ours.
It was where Ryan taught me how to ride a bike, running behind me with one hand gripping the seat while I screamed at him not to let go. It was where Ava tripped over her own shoelaces and blamed the pavement for weeks. It was there the three of us carved our initials into the old oak tree at the end of the road, swearing we'll always stay best friends.
I slowed when I reached that tree.
The carving was still there:
Z + R + A
The letters were uneven at slightly crooked. We'd been eleven.
I traced them lightly with my fingers, and something inside my chest twisted. When had things changed? When had Ryan stopped being the boy who lived three houses down and started being..... more?
Maybe it was the way he'd started looking at me differently at fifteen. Or the way he always walked on the outside of the pavement, closer to the road, like it was instinct to protect me. Or maybe it was smaller than that - the quiet glances, the comfortable silences, the way he remembered how I liked my tea without asking.
Love, I realized, hadn't arrived all at once.
It had grown quietly. Slowly. Like ivy wrapping around brick, so natural I hadn't even noticed until it was everywhere.
"Zoey?"
I startled, nearly stepping back from the tree.
Ryan stood a few steps away, hands in his jacket pocket, hair slightly messy from the wind. He smiled when he saw my expression. "You look like you've seen a ghost".
"I didn't know you were there", I muttered, hoping he couldn't hear the way my heart has suddenly sped up.
He glanced at the tree and chuckled softly.
"You came to check if it's still there too?"
I nodded. "Of course it is".
"Good", he said quietly.
There was something in is voice - something almost fragile.
We stood side by side beneath the oak tree, shoulders almost brushing. The distance between us felt smaller than usual, charged with something neither of us dared to name.
"Do you remember when Ava tried to climb this and got stuck halfway up?" he asked grinning.
I laughed despite myself. "She cried for over ten minutes and blamed you for not catching her".
"She did fall on me", he defended, mock seriousness in his tone.
Our laughter faded slowly, settling into a softer silence. The wind rustled the leaves above us, golden edges catching in the sunlight.
"I'm going to miss this", he said suddenly.
My throat tightened. "It'll still be here".
"I know", he replied. "But it won't be the same".
That was the problem.
Nothing would be the same.
I wanted to say something brave. Something honest. Something that would shift the space between us from uncertainty to clarity. But the words stayed lodged somewhere deep inside me.
Instead, I asked,"Are you scared?"
He looked at me, suprised. "Of Manchester?"
I shrugged. "of.... leaving."
He hesitated. Just for a second. But I saw it.
"Yeah," he admitted softly. "A bit."
I swallowed. "Why?"
Ryan gave a small, almost helpless smile. "Because I don't like the idea of not knowing what things will be like anymore."
Neither did I.
A group of kids ran past us, their laughter echoing down the street. For a moment, it felt like we were looking at younger versions of ourselves - careless, certain that nothing would ever change.
"I'll still call," he added gently. "And text. And annoy you constantly."
I smiled faintly. "You better."
His shoulder brushed mine then, light but delibrate. The contact sent a quiet warmth through me. He didn't move away immediately.
And I didn't either.
The world seemed to slow around us - the rustling leaves, the distant hum of a car, the faint chirping of birds. Everything narrowed to the space between his hand and mine, so close they almost touched.
Almost.
"Zoey?"
My breath caught. "Yeah?"
"You know you're my best friend, right?"
There it was.
The word that both comforted and shattered me at the same time>
"Of course," I said softly.
He smiled - warm, familiar, safe.
And yet my heart ached.
Because best friend wasn't what I wanted to be. Not anymore.
As we started walking down back the street together, I let myself steal a glance at him.The way his hair fell over his forehead. The slight crease between his brows when he was thinking. The steady rhythm of his steps matching mine.
Three weeks.
Three weeks until he left.
Three weeks to decide whether I could keep pretending this was enough - or if I was finally ready to risk everything.
Behind us, the oak tree stood tall and unmoving, our initials carved into its bark.
Z + R + A.
We had promised we'll always stay best friends.
But no one had prepared me for what happened when friendship quietly turned into love.
And suddenly the countdown felt even shorter.
I had always been afraid of change. But maybe what scared me most wasn't him leaving. It was losing the chance to tell him the truth.