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It was a snowy December night when you decided to mutually break up.
The night was quiet and so peaceful, but your heart was in turmoil upon seeing his defeated face, and so was his when tears started to fall from your eyes.
It wasn’t always like this though.
You met him in college, he was two years your senior and you’d been taking the same ethics class — one he'd pushed off until his last semester before his residency. Always kind and soft-spoken, you eventually got to work on a group project together and when the other people in your team decided to play hooky, Zayne was the one to let the professor know and invite you to work together.
He eventually started reaching out to you under the pretense of studying together at a new cafe, only for the both of you to talk endlessly, with no real studying being done. Your bashful expression when he'd compliment your new earrings didn't go unnoticed, and you also didn't miss the shy glances followed by a cough when you glanced back.
This went on for two whole months, until you encountered one of Zayne's friends, Caleb, at a party you both attended. Drunk out of his mind, with Zayne following in tow (sporting a worried expression that you found quite cute), he spotted you and made a beeline for you. The brunette pointed at you, and spoke with a slurred speech.
"You. You're the girl he's been talking about non-stop right? The cute one from his ethics class? Dude, Zayne's in looooove with you."
At a loss for words, you glanced at Zayne — who was running a hand over his face, clearly flustered out of his mind and trying his best to get Caleb to shut up.
The butterflies in your stomach were batting their wings furiously, and your own face started feeling hot. Before you could even speak though, Caleb spoke again, a little more agitated now.
"Poor guy cannot take you off his mind, so for my mental wellbeing, please date him. I can't keep living like this, my ears are gonna fall off if I hear one more thing about you — no offense. If there's an equivalent to the bechdel test for men, we're failing and we're failing haaaaard . All because of him. Anyways, I'm gonna go grab another beer but you've gotta date him. Please."
As Caleb walked away, you stared at Zayne. It was a clumsy indirect admission of feelings, but gosh was it a sweet one. His face burned red, unable to stop his friend from revealing all of that info to you — but it's not like it was a lie. Whenever the two of them would hang out, he'd ask Caleb for advice on what to wear for your next outing or check whether or not a text you sent him had a hidden message. Hell, Zayne would text him asking for good date spots to take you to.
Running a hand through his hair, Zayne watched his friend walk away and cleared his throat before grabbing a hold of your hand, his serious expression not doing much to distract you from the red of his cheeks.
"This wasn't how I planned on letting you know how I feel and asking you out but.. He wasn't really lying."
His cold hand gripped yours a bit more tightly, before he exhaled in a feeble attempt at steadying his nerves.
"I really do like you though, and I'd love to take you out. Not as the guy from your ethics class that you're stuck doing a project with, but as your boyfriend."
That's how it started. Loving Zayne was comfortable. It came as easily as breathing. The late nights he'd spend in your dorm room, reading one of his cardiology textbooks while you slept soundly on his chest were your favorites. No words needed to be exchanged, his heartbeat told you everything you had to know about his love for you.
When you received a job offer from your dream company, Zayne was there with a bouquet of your favorite flowers to congratulate you. Kissing your face softly and whispering sweetly about how proud he was, and how he knew you'd get in. You melted in his embrace, remembering the times you'd cried in his arms, afraid of being rejected while he held you and gave you soft reassurances.
In return, you were there for him — preparing boxes of snacks for him to keep in his car while he did his residency. His own apartment was left neglected, as he preferred spending nights at your place, sleeping only for a few hours before he went back to the hospital.
It was comfortable when you were still in university, but life caught up with you rapidly. Your job was rewarding, but the long hours and the overtime you had to work because of how new you were, drained you.
Zayne also had a hard time. His mentor was spread thin, and he had to take on more responsibilities as a resident physician than he'd had to during his internship. Coming back home to you was difficult, the shifts seemed never-ending — basically working 24 to 36 hours regularly.
The date nights became more and more sparse. You spoke to each other less and less, not wanting to drain the other further. Zayne would spend more time at his place, given that it was closer to the hospital, and you'd be exhausted from the overtime to visit him. He called you during his breaks, but more often than not, he got interrupted by responsibilities or different emergency codes, only being able to talk to you for two minutes at most if he was lucky.
You were having a hard time too. Trying your best to text him, but your boss seemed hellbent on making sure you were always hard at work, never allowing you the time to send Zayne a quick text. The mandatory overtime was irritating to say the least — always menial tasks that took an infuriating amount of time and that kept you in the office for hours, forcing you to come home late at night. Staying up was an almost impossible task, no matter how much you loved Zayne. Your eyes practically closed upon entering your home, and you'd forget to wipe your makeup way too many times. The rare times you'd stay awake, he'd have to stay later, because of a young patient having a heart attack or a new admission at the hospital.
It was exhausting, and neither of you were to blame. The universe had made it difficult and you couldn't hold any resentment because you knew how much this job meant to Zayne. On the other hand, he also didn't want to ask you to accommodate him — feeling that it'd be unfair to ask you to stay up, knowing just how tired you were.
Eventually, it had been enough.
You tried your best to push that feeling down, convincing yourself that you two will be alright, that this is just a hardship that will pass, but it was eating away at you. You missed Zayne so much, and this whole thing just wasn't doable. It wasn't sustainable for either of you. When your friend Tara said, "Right person, wrong time! It's unfortunate, but you can't help it," you never thought it'd apply to you. Never in a million years would you have thought that this relationship would be a fleeting thing, that it'd be rendered difficult and heartache inducing. Zayne was perfect for you, as you were for him — but whichever divine entity looked down upon you didn't seem to agree. The days seemed to drag on, and you missed your boyfriend so deeply, but life seemed set on making you and Zayne exhausted, not even having the time to see one another.
You were the only thing on Zayne's mind while he worked. The surgeries never ended, and he just wanted to take a nap in your arms, but his attending seemed keen on making him work until he keeled over. He was so worn out, every single one of his limbs sore, but he still thought about you and how lonely you must feel. This job is his dream, saving people is something he's always yearned to do, but that doesn't take away from the fact that he feels like the worst boyfriend to have ever existed. You never complained, never asked him to abandon his job to spend time with you, and whenever he'd have to cut your calls short, you'd tell him it's okay, your voice laced with an unspoken sadness.
He sometimes wished you'd get angry at him. Demand he spend some time with you but you were always understanding and patient. You were too good to him, and Zayne felt so selfish. You didn't deserve to wait for him, especially not when you already had so much on your plate with your new job and boss. His conscience weighed on him, and he couldn't let you keep going and be unhappy.
And so, he told his supervisor that there was a personal emergency, and he headed over to your place after sending you a message; one you dreaded but expected in the back of your mind.
"Love, we need to talk. I'll come over to your place in 20 mins."
His heart ached upon sending it, and he only wished that your heart hurt less than his — unfortunately it was far from being the case. You had just gotten home when you received the text, and you could already feel tears welling up in your eyes. You knew what was going to follow, but you were exhausted, and you knew he was too. You wanted to fight for this relationship. You loved Zayne so much, so desperately, it made your heart hurt, and god, you knew he loved you too. You wanted to fight, but you felt selfish doing so. In your heartbreak, you still cared about him so much. His eyebags were getting more and more pronounced, and there was nothing you could do to take away from his tiredness. At this point, you just wanted him to rest, and if you could take one thing off his mind at the cost of your own unhappiness, you'd do it.
Zayne drove to your place, his hands tight on the steering wheel. He didn't want to do this, but he loves you so much. He loves you so badly, he cannot let you wither away, waiting for him. You deserved the world and he couldn't even give you a full hour without being interrupted by a call from the hospital, or without him desperately needing sleep. He started going through his memory, trying to remember the last time he took you out on a date. The last time he gave you his full attention, the last time he saw you laugh, the last time he made you blush. All these instances seemed so far away, and he couldn't forgive himself for leaving you alone for so long. You deserved too much, and if you could be your bright, joyful self without him by your side, then so be it.
It was snowing outside, so softly. It felt as if the universe was mocking you, as if it interpreted your relationship as an insult towards itself, and was hellbent on getting rid of it. Your heart was breaking in anticipation, but the world would keep on moving.
You choke back tears.
No matter how much you wanted the earth to stop spinning, just for a moment with him again, it never would. You were doomed to stride forward, whether you wanted to or not.
The twenty minutes went by at a grueling slow pace, yet it didn't feel like enough time for either of you to prepare for the inevitable. When you hear that familiar rhythmic knock on your door, it suddenly feels like the beginning of the end. There were so many thoughts going through your mind — what if you didn't answer the door? Would he still stay by your side? No, that was too cruel. Your stomach hurts at the thought of paining him further, and so you stood from the couch where you were sitting and walked towards the door. Your whole body felt weighed down when you opened it, only to see Zayne — a painful expression painted on his face. He seemed thinner than before, more tired. You wanted to reach up and cradle his cheeks, one last time, but you held back. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.
All he wanted was to hold you in his arms, as tight as he could, and tell you, " We'll be alright, we'll be okay. "
You looked so worried about him, it shattered Zayne's heart. He couldn't believe you still cared, even after being so worn out from the long work hours. Even in your most tired moments, when you looked so fragile, when your eyes held back tears, you still cared about him so much. He didn't want to hurt you, never wanted to — but he'd ended up doing it, and he couldn't keep dragging this on further. He didn't want to tell you how much he loved you, how much it broke him to do this.
When you invite him in, hesitant to hold his hand in fear of your resolve wavering, he refuses. If he took a step inside your home, he wouldn't want to let you go. You look up to stare into his eyes, only for him to shake his head and inhale shakily.
"I'm so sorry. I.. I think we should break up."
You heard his voice. You know what he said. You knew from before, knew it was coming, knew it was inevitable.
You knew, but it still hurt.
It hurt so terribly, and you couldn't even do anything to make it hurt less. You couldn't hate him, couldn't get angry, couldn't scream, couldn't do anything.
Trying your best not to let your voice crack, you respond while choking back a sob.
"Okay. I'm sorry, Zayne."
When the tears started falling from your eyes, Zayne wanted to reach out and wipe them away. He loathed to see you cry, but the only thing he loathed more than that at that moment was himself. His throat was closing up, and he wanted to fall to his knees.
He wanted to beg you to get angry.
Beg you to love him less.
Beg you to hate him.
Beg you to do anything that could make it less painful for him to end things with you.
He couldn't do it, though. He could never do it, and he felt like a coward for that. So what did he do? He nodded and spoke one last time before leaving your doorstep.
"I'm so sorry. Please, take care of yourself. I can't apologize enough."
As Zayne walks back to his car, he has to fight with himself to not look back at you, despite the difficult breathing and the sniffles he hears from you. Because if he does, he'll just run back to you. But he wants you to be free from him. Free from the burden of his love — so he keeps on walking, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying.
You look at his back when he walks away.
You only allow yourself to sob once his car pulls out of your apartment's parking lot. The tears are falling freely, each one more painful than the next, and you can't help yourself from wailing, from silently begging him to come back, to tell you that everything is going to be fine, that you shouldn't break up.
Sobbing on your doorstep, harder than you've ever cried before, harder than you thought you could ever cry.
One of your neighbors walks out to see you on your knees, and she asks you "What's wrong sweetie? Are you hurt?" , and you can only cry out that you love him, you love him so much it hurts, that you just want him. She holds you in her arms, tells you it's okay, that you'll be okay, but it's no use.
Your heart hurts so bad.
It's not her you want comforting you.
It's Zayne.
You want him to hold you tight, to tell you that everything will be okay.
It shouldn't have ended like this. You didn't want it to end like this, and neither did he, but there was nothing either of you could do.
Right person, wrong time.
The day after was terrible. You had no choice but to show up to work, despite your voice being hoarse and your eyes being painfully puffy from all the tears you shed the night before.
Everything felt off. You didn't text him during your break, and at no point did he call you.
It made you want to cry again, but you couldn't. You had to be strong because the world kept on spinning, and Zayne wouldn't have wanted you to sob for him endlessly — though you were certain that once you got home, you'd start sobbing and pleading for him in your room.
The day went by quickly. Too fast, really. There was just numbness when you were at your desk, something like autopilot mode kicking in.
When the clock hit 5, and your boss let you go home with no overtime, you felt the tears resurface. The one day you had wished for a distraction, away from your feelings, your boss decided to be considerate. No words were said, though. You packed your bag and walked out.
The Chinese restaurant you went to with Zayne was on your way home. The place where he found out he'd gotten matched into a cardiology residency at Akso Hospital, where he'd stood and hugged you so tightly, in front of onlookers — so unlike his usual self, who shied away from pda. He was so happy to share the good news with you, his favorite person.
The memories resurfaced, and it felt like you could see him in everything you've ever loved. Zayne had left a permanent mark on you, and you wanted to hate him for ruining so many things for you, but you couldn't bring yourself to.
You held your tears back during the entire walk home.
Maybe you should call Tara. Do anything to distract you from this. From feeling like a ghost, a shell of yourself without him by your side. You needed to change, to prepare food, to sleep, to work, and to repeat all of this again tomorrow. So with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, you opened your closet to grab some comfortable clothes — that was when you saw it.
One of Zayne's sweaters, one that he'd given you to wear when you were cold during a date. It still smelled like his cologne, like his jasmine fragrance.
It was unfair. You inhaled sharply and looked up, trying your best to stop the sobs, but it was of no use.
It still smelled like him.
You grabbed your phone before the tears completely blurred your vision and called tara, all while clutching his sweater to your chest.
“Hey babe! You got off work?”
And the sobs resumed. You cried your heart out, desperately asking her, if it was for the best, then why does it hurt so bad? Why does it feel like a part of yourself got removed when he walked away? Everything seemed like a blur, but you remember the door unlocking and her worried face. Hands cradling your face, telling you to let it all out, to cry until you couldn't anymore. That it was okay to hurt. You didn't need to put on a front. You didn't need to look so strong — you could fall apart because you'd build yourself back up.
So you did just that. You cried in her arms. You cried for him, cried at the world, cried at the unfairness of it all. She rocked you back and forth, comfort reminiscent of Zayne's arms.
You cried harder than the night before. And you kept on crying every single day for a week.
The months passed by slowly after that. You still didn't text him during your breaks, and he still didn't call you. You still loved him, you still longed for him, but you hoped he was relieved of some burden. Maybe he'd finally sleep a little better at night, maybe his eyebags went away, even if you weren't there to see it. You'd be okay eventually, but now wasn't quite the time yet.
Following Tara's recommendation, you downloaded dating apps. Not to properly date anyone, just to take your mind off him, but it proved to be harder than she said. The men you matched with all resembled him slightly. One of them had similar eyes, the other had the same fashion sense, and another had a similar smile. When you talked to them, you tried to find traces of him within their speaking habits. None of them had his dry humor, nor did they have his tender voice or his laugh.
None of them called you to check in between shifts.
None of them were Zayne.
Dating was off the table when you realized that; maybe you need some more time to yourself? Perhaps you need to learn to visit the places you went to with him, get used to going to the cafes you two favored on your own.
Your boss wasn't breathing down your neck anymore, so you could spend your next evening visiting that pastry shop Zayne adored — the one he'd order macarons from and personally deliver to your home to share with you.
However, each time you told yourself you'd do it, you felt afraid.
Afraid of running into him. Afraid of seeing him too happy without you by his side. What if he'd already found another woman? Someone from the hospital, maybe a nurse or a fellow resident. You wouldn't be able to handle it, so you pushed it off.
" I'll do it tomorrow ," you'd tell yourself.
Soon, it'll be a whole year without Zayne. His birthday was the most difficult day since the night you lost him. Funnily enough, you thought you'd be able not to cry, but you missed him even more than before. You had the day off — a pto you scheduled ahead of the breakup, but now you were just surrounded by the silence. The autumn breeze blew through your window and reminded you of him.
“You'll catch a cold, my love.”
“Mmh, the breeze feels so nice, though. But maybe if my favorite snowman hugged me and kept me warm, I'd be okay.”
“Sure, darling. I'll keep you warm in my icy embrace and shield you from the cold, won't I?”
You hugged the snowman plushie he'd won you a little tighter upon reminiscing. You cried softly against it, your heart aching again — but you found solace in knowing that he was out here working hard towards his goal. You'd support him from afar, no matter what.
Today marks 12 months since the breakup. An entire year.
And today, you were going to visit the pastry shop. You had to get over him, and as painful as it sounded, it had been almost a year, and you had to keep moving. Zayne would become a beloved memory, treasured within both your heart and your mind.
Dressed for the weather, you walked towards the quiet cafe but hesitated before opening the door to the establishment. The walk on the way here was familiar, and the pastry shop remained the same way you'd left it when you last visited it with Zayne. The same regulars, the same jingle of the bell when you pushed the door open, the same chairs and the same staff. You searched for the seats you'd usually sit at with Zayne, and you thought your eyes failed you when you saw those familiar hazel eyes looking over the cafe, as if they were waiting for something to happen.
Or someone to come in.
He was sitting alone, the same jasmine tea latte on the table in front of him — the one he'd meticulously pour three sugar packets in before stirring counterclockwise for 20 seconds to dissolve the sugar. He looked the same as he did that december night, if only more tired. His eyebags did not go away, it seemed.
Gathering all the courage you could muster, you walk towards him. You'd get your closure today no matter what.
But when he looked your way, your steps faltered. His gaze softened, his shoulders slumped a bit, as if he'd let go of some tension he didn't know he held. Zayne smiled, and you had to hold back from jumping into his arms, telling him how much you'd missed him. He spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb you — as if you'd blow away in the wind, like a dandelion's bristles.
"Hi," he whispered, his voice as soothing as the day you last heard it.
Your breath catches in your throat, and you have to inhale a bit before replying.
“Hi, Zayne. Can I sit here?”
And he nodded, his lips slightly curling upwards. You hoped it was you he was waiting for. Maybe he'd wanted to see as much as you did, and maybe he too longed to hold you in his arms.
You waited for him to speak again, and as if reading your mind, he did. Fidgeting a bit in his chair, Zayne looked over at you so fondly.
“How have you been?”
His voice. You missed his voice so much. You missed him asking you about your day with that tone, that patient and tender, love filled tone.
"Oh I've been.. Decent."
That seemed like a good answer. You weren't good, nor were you fine. You had the man you loved, the man you love , sitting in front of you after close to a year of yearning for him, following the worst heartbreak you had ever experienced.
“Work's been tiring, but my boss stopped breathing down my neck. I get home on time now, with no mandatory overtime. It's okay now. How about you?”
Zayne wasn't fine. The hospital took in some new cardiology residents, so the workload calmed down, but he still felt restless without you by his side. He gazed over all of your features, and you looked so beautiful. He missed you to death.
“I'm handling everything okay. We have new attending physicians, so the amount of long shifts has significantly decreased.”
He spoke truthfully, you knew it, but you couldn't make sense of his eyebags if that was the truth. He looked like he's had sleepless nights for months, his eyes tired and not as bright as they used to be. He still looked so charming, though, and you thought to yourself, that it wasn't your place to inquire any further.
The two of you caught up for two hours, akin to old friends having a heartfelt reunion — except you were ex-lovers. Ex-lovers who valued the other's happiness over your own, leaving you both miserable but under the impression that the other was doing better without you.
He asked if you dated in the past year, and you shook your head, explaining that you had a hard time and chose to take some time to yourself. Zayne didn't need to know you were unable to date because you wanted him. He didn't need to know that you refused to give a chance to anyone who wasn't him, that you looked for him in everyone you met.
Secretly, Zayne couldn’t help but feel relieved upon learning that. He wanted you to be happy, of course he did, but selfishly, he wanted to be the one to bring you happiness. In all honesty, he couldn't bring himself to date anyone either. The women around him weren't you. They didn't smile at him the way you did, never cared to learn more about him beyond his face and job, and none of them texted him sweet little love messages to check up on him. You were the only one for him.
You only started heading out when the cafe announced it'd be closing its doors, and even then, neither of you seemed to be in a rush. A strange sense of longing lingered around you both, a warm feeling — something that quietly begged for one more moment spent together.
Zayne offered to drive you home, and you took him up on that. The car hummed quietly as you sat in comfortable silence. The last rays of sunlight quickly disappeared, leaving behind them a deep blue night. Snowflakes slowly started drifting down from the sky, and you were reminded of that night when you decided to part ways. Sooner than you'd hoped, Zayne pulled into your apartment's parking lot.
He still knew the way to your place.
If you asked him about it, he'd answer simply. He never forgot, never could bring himself to remove the path to your home from his memory. He'd spent countless nights there, holding you in his arms while he rested before the hospital inevitably called him for a new 36h shift. Zayne could never forget the way home. Not your apartment, he could never forget the way to you — his real home.
Getting out of his car, he walked you to your apartment. Soon, you'd have to say goodbye to him, and you grew restless at the thought. It felt like if you said goodbye today, it'd be the last time you'd see him. You didn't want to bother him any longer, nor keep him tied down.
It seemed inevitable, though. It felt like it was last year again when you had to fight tears from falling upon agreeing on breaking up. Helpless, unable to speak, and to ask him to stay. Unable to be selfish, for once. But what could you do? You just nodded and wished him a goodnight and goodbye. It'd be over soon enough. You'd see his back as he walked away from you for the last time.
You're the first to turn away, focusing your gaze on your doorknob, trying to type in the digits to his birthday to unlock your apartment. The tears rose up, and your eyes were misty again, fog taking over your field of vision.
It was the end.
Zayne took a step back and looked at you. A feeling of doom, helplessness, and fear took over him. He'd let you go a second time, and it'd be the last this time around. No more chances — he'd never get to see your face again after this, but if you were happy it was worth it, wasn't it?
He watched you type in your password and heard the familiar jingle when your door unlocked.
It really was the end.
God, he really couldn't do this. He needed to be selfish for once, and he prayed you'd forgive him for it.
Before you can take a step inside, you hear him call out your name, and before you can fully process it, you feel his arms wrap around you. He held you so tightly.
Zayne was holding you in his arms. The way he desperately wanted to when he heard you cry a year ago. The way you wished he'd held you a year ago.
“ I'm sorry . I'm selfish. I can't even let you go, so please, please .”
You couldn't stop the sobs that took over your body when you heard him plead for you. You clutched onto his sweater as tight as you could, the smell of jasmine so soothing while you sobbed in his arms. His arms tighten around you when he feels you tremble against him, desperate in the way he shook slightly too.
He spoke again, his voice breaking. More vulnerable than you'd ever heard him before. More raw, full of yearning, longing, desperation and love. So much love.
“I love you. I love you so much, I love you, more than life itself .”
Zayne kissed the top of your head, soft tears falling down his cheeks while he whispered hushed apologies and promises of a future together — no matter the hardships, he needed you. He missed you so much. A part of his heart went missing without you next to him. He needed you by his side, as selfish as that made him seem.
“We'll be alright. Please, let's try again. ”
Those words you wanted to hear, so very badly on that night, a year ago. You nodded against his chest, the sobs not showing any signs of stopping.
Except this time around, Zayne was there to hold you in his arms. Two lovers who longed for each other's warmth for a year, finally into each other's embrace again.
It was a snowy December night when you reunited with your love, and you'd never let go this time.