Tears fall from my face, blurring the world around me, a stream of memories overwhelming me and releasing me all at once. I'm standing in the middle of a faceless crowd, bodies swaying around me to the thumping bass, but none of it reaches me. The loud music blaring from the speakers is distant, almost muffled. I can't hear anything, really—just the silent roar of pain crashing inside me, a storm I've been carrying far too long.

I wipe away the tears quickly, as if that will somehow make the feelings go away. Slowly, I start swaying, not to the beat of the music, but to the nothingness that surrounds me. I'm so lost in my thoughts, in the suffocating silence, that I don't notice the arm that slips around my waist until it's there.

I turn, startled, and meet Nick's eyes. His face is full of concern, the kind of worry that has been shadowing him since this all began. His eyes mirror the sadness I've been trying so hard to bury. He can see through me, like always.

"Arwen," he whispers, pulling me closer, his voice soft like he's afraid I'll shatter if he speaks too loudly.

I can't pretend anymore.

I can't pretend that I'm okay.

That I'm not breaking apart.

That I don't miss Jaimes so much it physically hurts.

That I don't stay awake at night, wondering where he is or what happened to him.

That I don't love him still.

That every part of me doesn't crave him, even now.

The sobs come then, hard and fast, tears spilling down my face like rain from a broken sky. I can't stop. Nick holds me, tight but gentle, his presence grounding me as I let the storm inside me finally break free. His steady heartbeat is the only thing keeping me anchored in this moment, in this painful reality.

He doesn't say a word, just lets me cry until I have no tears left to give.

When I finally quiet, when the tears slow and the sobs fade to broken breaths, Nick guides me to sit down by the pool. The cool night air wraps around us as he gently lowers me onto one of the stools. The crowd fades into the background as if we're the only two people left in the world.

"Are you okay, Arwen?" Nick asks quietly, sitting beside me, his voice full of hesitation. He knows the answer. He's known for months.

I stare at him, my voice trapped in my throat. Finally, I manage a whispered, "I'm sorry."

His brow furrows in confusion. "What are you sorry for?"

"For crying. For always crying," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I know you're tired of it. Tired of me."

Nick brushes a few strands of hair away from my face, his touch warm and calming.

"I'll never get tired of you," he says softly. "I thought you were strong enough to handle this on your own. But seeing you like this... I was wrong. You're much stronger than I ever imagined."

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His words hit me hard, and I feel the weight of my own failure pressing down on me.

"I'm not strong, Nick. I'm broken," I admit, my voice shaking with the truth I've been running from.

"I don't want to feel this anymore. I want to go back to before... before Jaimes, before everything. I just want to erase it all."

Nick's eyes soften, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "I get it, Arwen. But this—" he gestures at the tears, at my pain—"this is part of life. It's not about erasing Jaimes or what you had. It's about surviving it. Becoming stronger because of it."

I shake my head, frustrated. "I don't want to be strong, Nick. I just want to stop hurting."

Nick sighs, moving closer, the warmth of his presence comforting. "I've been waiting for this moment," he admits. "For you to let it all out. You've cried with Mom, with Josh and Leroy, but you've never let me in. I've been waiting for you to let me be here for you."

I shake my head again, my throat tight. "You gave me space. They didn't. But it doesn't mean I didn't need you, Nick." I pause, my heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

"You and Papa... you've been my quiet support. And I've appreciated that."

Nick's expression softens even more. "So how are you now? Really?"

I take a deep breath, the words sticking in my throat. But I force them out. "I'm giving him up, Nick. I have to."

He stares at me, shocked. "What do you mean, giving up? Yes, Jaimes has been missing for almost a year but you can't just give up."

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of the truth I'm about to speak. "I went to see his mom last week."

Nick's brow furrows, but he listens, waiting.

I remember it so clearly.

The way Arielle, Jaimes's mother, greeted me with her usual kindness. But there was something different in her eyes that day—something final. We sat in her living room, the same place where Jaimes and I had spent so many afternoons together. Then, she told me about a phone call she had received from Jaimes's father, the one who had barely been in his life, the one who had stayed in Spain all these years.

Jaimes's father is involved in an underground organization—the mafia. His mother and Jaimes left Spain because of it. Arielle said she wanted to give Jaimes a normal, peaceful life. However, it seems the ghosts of their past had found their way back into their lives. Jaimes's father confirmed that it was their rivals who tracked them down, and they are the ones who killed Jaimes.

She told me she was leaving. Moving to Spain to be with him. And just like that, I felt my last connection to Jaimes slipping away.

"I can't keep waiting for a ghost," she had said, her voice breaking. "Jaimes is dead."

I remember how those words shattered me, how I couldn't breathe. She told me that Jaimes had been found—by his father—in Spain. In a hospital. In the morgue.

The only words I'd managed to say before leaving her house were, "Tell him I love him."

Now, sitting beside Nick, the night air cool against my tear-stained cheeks, I feel the crushing weight of finality. Jaimes is gone. He's really gone, and nothing I do—no amount of love or hope—will bring him back.

Nick takes my hand, his grip firm but gentle. "You loved him, Arwen. You still do. And that's okay. But you have to live, too."

"I don't know how," I whisper, staring at the still water of the pool, my reflection rippling in the moonlight.

Nick's voice is soft, patient. "Start by letting him go. Not by forgetting him, but by moving forward."

I nod, though the ache in my chest feels like it'll never fade. But maybe Nick is right. Maybe it's time to stop holding on to the ghost of Jaimes, to let go of the hope that's been weighing me down.

The tears start again, but this time, they feel different. They're not tears of despair—they're tears of release. Tears of goodbye.

"Goodbye, Jaimes," I whisper into the night, my voice carried away by the gentle breeze.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel a tiny bit lighter.