Yoko sat on the couch, her hands trembling as she tried to collect her thoughts, each breath coming in shallow gasps. The weight of the moment pressed down on her chest, making it harder to breathe, as if the air itself had thickened. Her mind raced, but the words she needed to say remained elusive, tangled in the chaos of her emotions. Across from her, Faye sat perched on the edge of her seat, her eyes scanning Yoko with a mixture of concern and confusion. The silence between them felt heavy, oppressive. The faint ticking of the wall clock echoed in the background, each second dragging on and amplifying the tension that hung in the room like an unseen force.
Yoko closed her eyes for a brief moment, gathering the courage to speak. She took a slow, steadying breath, but the weight of her own heart was almost too much to bear. Finally, her voice broke the silence, soft but shaky. "Faye," she began, her words faltering slightly as she forced herself to meet Faye's gaze. "I need to ask you something."
Faye's breath caught in her throat, and she leaned forward instinctively, her body tense, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears that it almost drowned out Yoko's voice. She knew this was importantâwhatever Yoko had to say, it was going to be something neither of them could ignore.
Faye had arrived at the house that evening with a quiet, almost unnerving atmosphere hanging in the air. Namtan and Sonya had been clearly confused when they found out Yoko's friends were not waiting to continue the celebration. The plans for a bonfire, for laughter, and the usual joy that filled the house seemed to have dissipated into an unusual, almost suffocating silence. Faye noticed it immediatelyâa stark contrast to the energy she had expected.
Before she had the chance to go upstairs and find out what was happening, Namtan suddenly blurted out, "Oh my god! Fayeâlook at this!" She was holding her phone, and her voice carried a mix of disbelief and urgency.
Faye's brow furrowed as she stood up quickly, her instincts telling her that something was wrong. She crossed the room and looked at Namtan's phone, her own pulse quickening as she saw what was on the screen. It was an interview with Film, Faye's ex-girlfriend, on a live broadcast from a recent red carpet event.
"What is it?" Faye asked, her tone cautious yet desperate, her eyes scanning the screen for answers. The dread that had been building in her chest was now fully realized, her body bracing for the impact of whatever news this was about to bring.
Namtan handed her the phone with a look that said it allâshe didn't need to explain. The clip was already playing, and Faye's gaze fell on Film's familiar face, glowing under the camera lights, her words slipping through the air like daggers.
It took only a few moments for Faye's entire world to tilt on its axis as Film casually mentioned that she and Faye had "never really broken up," a declaration so unexpected that it made Faye's head spin. She could feel the walls of the room closing in on her, and her heart raced, every beat echoing the confusion that gnawed at her.
Her focus snapped back to the present as Yoko's voice trembled, her hands clenching into fists on her lap. She could feel her pulse pounding in her fingertips, the words clawing at her throat. Finally, she took a shaky breath and whispered, "I... I don't know how to say this, but I need some distance. Some clarity."
Faye's expression shifted instantly, her face falling as though Yoko's words had sucked all the air out of the room. "Distance?" she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "What do you mean? Did I do something wrong?"
Yoko shook her head, but the gesture felt futile, hollow. "It's not about what you've done, Faye. But what you haven't. Iâ" Her voice cracked, and she bit her lip hard to keep her composure. " Film, she doesn't think you're broken up yet."
Faye's eyes widened in shock, her mouth parting as though to protest, but no words came. Finally, she managed, "Yoko, that's not true. I swear. When Film chose her career over me, it ended everything between us. We didn't need to say it out loud; it was justâover."
Yoko's lips trembled as she struggled to contain the storm of emotions inside her. "Maybe it was over for you," she said, her voice sharper now, cutting through the air between them. "But it wasn't for her. She still believes otherwise. I saw it in her eyes, Faye. In her words."
Faye stood abruptly, pacing the small room like a caged animal. "That's ridiculous. Film has no right to claim something that isn't there anymore. I moved on. I'm with you, Yoko."
"But you didn't tell her that, did you?" Yoko's voice rose, her frustration spilling over. "You didn't make it clear. You just assumed she knew. And now I'm stuck here, feeling like I'm caught in the middle of something I didn't even know existed."
Faye stopped pacing, the sound of her footsteps fading as she turned to face Yoko, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Her voice trembled, carrying the weight of frustration and hurt.
"Do you honestly think I want to hurt you?" she asked, her gaze locking onto Yoko's. "Do you think I'd still be here, pouring my heart into thisâinto usâif I had any lingering feelings for Film? If I wasn't completely committed to building something real with you?"
"It's not just about what you feel, Faye," Yoko shot back, her voice trembling under the weight of her pain. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's about what you didn't do."
She paused, her words sharp but laced with vulnerability. "You didn't close that chapter. You left it open, hanging in the background, and I felt it every time. You didn't give me the security I neededâthe reassurance to believe in us."
Faye's shoulders sagged, as though Yoko's words had physically struck her. She stood there for a moment, eyes downcast, the weight of her emotions pressing heavily on her chest.
"She walked out of my life, Yoko," Faye's voice wavered, raw with pain. "She left me. She abandoned me. How do you expect me to close something with someone who didn't want me anymore in their life?" She broke off, her breath catching in her throat as the words lodged there, a deep ache in her chest.
Her eyes lifted, desperation flickering in them as she looked at Yoko. "Yoko, please... don't let this come between us." Her voice softened, a quiet plea. "I'll fix it. I'll talk to Film. I'll do whatever it takes to show you that you're the one I want."
Yoko let out a shaky laugh, but there was no humor in it. "It's not just about Film, Faye. It's about trust. It's about how I'm supposed to feel like I'm enough when there's still this unresolved mess hanging over us. I wanted to feel safe with you, Faye. But how could I, when part of you was still tethered to someone else?"
Faye dropped to her knees in front of Yoko, her hands reaching out, trembling, but stopping just short of touching her. "You are enough," she said, her voice pleading, desperate, as though each word was a lifeline. "You're more than enough. I'll do whatever it takes to prove that to you. Please, Yoko, just don't pull away." Her voice broke, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the silence between them.
Yoko's eyes filled with tears, and she looked away, unable to bear the raw, vulnerable emotion written all over Faye's face. It hurt too much. "I don't want to feel like this anymore, Faye," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't keep questioning where I stand in your life. You need to talk to herânot for me, but for you. You need to clear the air, figure out what's really over and what's not."
Faye's hands dropped to her sides, her body sagging as though the weight of Yoko's words had drained her of every last ounce of strength. Her expression crumpled in defeat, the uncertainty in her eyes deepening. "I'll do it," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I'll talk to Film. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right. But please, Yoko, don't let this be the end of us. I can't lose you."
Yoko stood, stepping back slightly, the distance between them growing both physically and emotionally. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, as though trying to anchor herself to the moment, but she felt herself slipping away. "I'm not saying it's the end," she said softly, her voice barely audible, trembling with the weight of her words. "But for us to move forward, we need to address the past. And I... I need some time for myself too. I feel like we've been moving too fast, and it's overwhelming me."
Faye's face fell, the light in her eyes dimming as the words hit her like a blow. Her expression darkened with hurt, and Yoko saw itâthe subtle tremble of Faye's lips, the way her shoulders seemed to cave inward, as though she was shrinking under the weight of Yoko's words. It made Yoko's chest ache, a sharp pang of regret that hit her like a wave. She wanted to take it all back, to reach out and erase the pain she'd caused, but the words had already escaped. They hung in the air between them, a chasm she didn't know how to bridge.
"How long?" Faye asked finally, her voice barely a whisper, strained and fragile. The question trembled in the air, hanging heavy with the fear of the unknown.
Yoko hesitated, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. The lump in her throat made it hard to speak. "I... I don't know," she admitted, her voice cracking with the vulnerability she hadn't meant to show. "I just need to figure things out."
The silence that followed was deafening, each second stretching into what felt like an eternity. Faye's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her jaw tightening as if she were holding herself together by sheer will. Slowly, deliberately, she stood, her movements slow and heavy, as though gathering the strength to speak.
"I meant what I said, Yoko," Faye began, her voice trembling yet filled with a quiet resolve. "I love you. Maybe it feels fast for you, but for me... it's all I've felt since the moment I saw you. Time didn't matter to me because every second I've spent with you felt right. I never doubted it, not once. You're what I've wanted, Yoko. Please, just know that."
She reached out a hand, but pulled it back, as if unsure if it would bring comfort or more distance. Her heart was laid bare, the weight of her confession hanging in the air, waiting for Yoko to decide what came next.
Her words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, a confession of unwavering love that only made Yoko's heart ache more. Yoko's eyes burned, but she blinked back her own tears, unwilling to let them fall. "Faye..." she began, her voice faltering, but Faye raised a hand to stop her.
"No," Faye said, her tone firm despite the quiver in it. "I understand that you need time, and I'll respect that. But I need you to know this before I go. My love for you isn't fleeting. It's not something I can just turn off or set aside. So, take the time you need, but please... don't forget that."
Yoko's breath hitched, the words cutting through her defenses. She wanted to say somethingâanythingâthat could soften the blow, but nothing came. Instead, she nodded weakly, her head bowing as guilt and uncertainty threatened to consume her.
Faye stepped back, her arms folding tightly around herself as if to shield her from the growing coldness between them. "Take care of yourself, Yoko," she said softly, her voice barely audible. "I'll be here... if you still want me."
And with that, Faye turned, walking away with deliberate steps that seemed to echo through the room, each one heavier than the last. Yoko watched her go, her vision blurring as tears finally escaped, trailing down her cheeks. She sank back onto the couch, burying her face in her hands, the weight of her own choices pressing down on her like an unbearable storm.
She wanted to call out to Faye, to take it all back and promise her that everything would be okay. But the words wouldn't come. The ache in her heart was matched only by the fear that she might have let something truly irreplaceable slip through her fingers.
The room fell silent once more, but the echoes of their conversation lingered, each word replaying in Yoko's mind like a haunting melody she couldn't escape.
As Yoko got into bed, she burst into tears again, the familiar scent of Faye lingering on the pillow, a reminder of everything she was trying to walk away from. She reached for her phone, a strong urge to call Faye flooding her mindâbegging her to come back, to sleep beside her once more. But Yoko stopped herself, her hand trembling as she put the phone down. She convinced herself that this was for the best. The pain she was feeling now, the hurt they were both enduring, was temporary. It might break them in the short term, but she believed it could save their relationship in the long run, that this space and time apart would give them both the clarity they needed.
---
When Yoko woke up, the weight of the night's events was still pressing heavily on her chest. She reached beside her, her fingers brushing the empty space where Faye should have been, and a fresh wave of sadness swept over her. The sting of missing Faye already was almost unbearable, and tears welled up in her eyes as she lay there, feeling the emptiness settle deep within her. She blinked, trying to push the feeling away, but it wouldn't leave.
After a long pause, there was a knock at the door, sharp and sudden. Yoko's heart skipped, and she rushed to get up, hoping, just for a moment, that it was Fayeâthat maybe, somehow, she had returned, that they could talk, make things right. But when she opened the door, the sight of Nana standing there brought a pang of disappointment.
Nana's face was unreadable, yet there was a quiet sadness in her eyes that made Yoko's stomach tighten. It was the kind of sadness that spoke volumes without a single word being said.
"Everyone's waiting in the living room," Nana said softly, her voice low and almost apologetic. Yoko's heart lurched, but Nana didn't pause, continuing in the same quiet tone. "They're ready to leave." There was another long pause before Nana added, her words weighted with emotion, "Faye and Sonya already left. They've said their goodbyes to everyone."
At the mention of Faye's name, Yoko's chest tightened with a sharp, painful ache. A part of her had clung to the fragile hope that there had been some mistakeâthat maybe, just maybe, Faye was still there, still waiting to fight for them. But as the reality set in, Yoko realized that she would not be seeing Faye today. Faye was already gone, already on her way, and all Yoko was left with now was the hollow ache in her chest.
Nana shifted her gaze toward the window, almost as though searching for the right words to soften the blow, but there was nothing that could ease the sharp sting Yoko was feeling. "Namtan will take us to the private jet," she added quietly, her voice laced with the same sadness that mirrored Yoko's own.
Though she tried to understand and make sense of the distance, of what she was doing for both of them, she couldn't shake the hurt. The hurt of knowing that Faye had chosen not to see her, not even for one last goodbye. That final, painful silence was something Yoko couldn't erase, and it only deepened the wound she was already carrying.
---
As Yoko stood at the airport, surrounded by friends and family, her bags packed and her heart weighed down with a heaviness she hadn't anticipated, she felt the stark contrast between the excitement of their arrival and the palpable sadness now filling the air. What had been a celebration just hours ago had transformed into something altogether differentâa quiet resignation, a quiet ache. The buzz of airport announcements and the distant laughter of other travelers felt muted, almost surreal, beneath the weight of her thoughts. Despite Faye's thoughtful gesture of arranging a private jet for their departure, her absence loomed large, a gaping void Yoko couldn't ignore.
Her eyes scanned the terminal, desperate for a glimpse of the one person she couldn't stop thinking about. Every second that passed deepened the sinking feeling in her chest, and the hope that Faye might appear, even just to say goodbye, began to slip further from her grasp. Her heart twisted as she realized that Faye was truly gone. The painful truth settled in, an emptiness that made everything else seem insignificant.
Finally, her gaze landed on Namtan, who was making her way toward her with a somber expression. There was no mistaking the sadness in her friend's eyes, and Yoko's stomach twisted in anticipation, bracing for what was to come.
Namtan's arms enveloped Yoko in a firm, comforting hug, and for a moment, Yoko allowed herself to lean into it, drawing what little solace she could from the familiar warmth of her friend. But the comfort was fleetingâan echo of what she longed for but knew she couldn't have.
"She wanted me to tell you goodbye," Namtan said softly, her voice filled with a quiet empathy that made Yoko's chest tighten. "She's... she's giving you the space you asked for. She said she'll be here when you're ready."
Yoko pulled back slightly, her eyes searching Namtan's face for any sign of something moreâanswers, reassurance, anything that might ease the gnawing ache in her heart. "She didn't even say goodbye herself," Yoko whispered, her voice thick with hurt and longing, as though the words themselves were laced with the sting of rejection.
Namtan's gaze softened, and her hand gave Yoko's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "She's hurting too," Namtan said quietly. "More than you might realize. But she meant what she said, Yoko. She believes in you both. She's giving you what you need because she loves youâeven if it's tearing her apart."
Yoko stood frozen, the weight of Namtan's words sinking in. "Take care of yourself, Yoko," Namtan continued softly. "You'll figure it out."
But as Yoko stood there, feeling the void of Faye's absence pressing against her, she wasn't sure if she could. How do you begin to heal from a wound you can't even fully understand?
Yoko nodded slowly, but the words felt hollow against the ache in her heart. She thanked Namtan quietly before turning toward the plane, her legs feeling like they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words.
As she climbed the steps onto the jet, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, her heart clinging to a desperate hope that Faye might appear, might change her mind and come running to her. But the terminal was still. Empty of the one person she wished to see most.
Once seated, Yoko pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window. The city she was leaving behind stretched out before her, a labyrinth of memories she wasn't ready to let go of. Tears welled up, blurring her vision as they silently spilled down her cheeks.
Her friends chatted softly around her, their voices distant and unintelligible. The only thing she could focus on was the gnawing ache in her chest. She wondered if she'd made the right choice, if this time apart would bring the clarity she desperately sought or only widen the distance between them.
Faye's words from their last conversation echoed in her mind, lingering like a bittersweet melody. "I love you. Maybe it feels fast for you, but for me... it's been all I've felt since the moment I saw you"
The thought of Faye's unwavering faith in them was both a comfort and a dagger. Yoko didn't know what the future held, but she silently promised herself one thing: when she was ready, she would find her way back to Faye. Somehow.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is the last update for this weekâthank you so much for all the love and support, babes!
A special shoutout to my amazing commenters and readers:
@Doryn25@kTDOTC@thirlwallslvr@zxcvb1234q@GrumpyOmega@BelindaRea8@bbookishbelle@smart2066@OhCrap6@Ahrundaty@Introvert_Vibes
@MahakSingh962
To my silent readers and everyone who voted to make this a double update, I appreciate you all more than words can express. Thank you so much!
Stay safe, stay kind, and stay happy. I truly love you all! ð