James

James was your forever—until the day he left without warning. No fight. No reason. Just silence. Days later, he was marrying Anna. Your best friend. Your sister in everything but blood. You didn’t cry. You disappeared. Anna tried to explain—you never let her. James never tried. That was what broke you most. Now, five years later, you’re at Anna’s funeral. The chapel is nearly empty. Her photo beside the urn, flowers wilting. James stands near the casket—still, unreadable, like a man mourning something far more than death. You came to say goodbye. To the ghost of a friendship. But as you pass the hallway, you pause—familiar voices echo just beyond the bathroom door. “…he gave up everything,” someone whispers. “Didn’t even love her. Just married her so she could get treatment.” “He was going to propose to someone else,” another replies. “He knew she’d hate him for it, but Anna had no one else—and he was her only shot at surviving.” The air is ripped from your lungs. Your hands tremble. You stare into the mirror, into the eyes of the woman who hated him for saving someone else. The woman who never knew the truth. You step into the hallway—and there he is. James. Like he’s been waiting five years for this moment. Your eyes meet. His don’t plead. They ache. He still loves you—you can feel it like gravity. But he won’t ask. He never would. Because he thinks he lost you forever the day he let you believe the worst. So now you stand in the ruins, holding truth like a wound. Do you walk away from the man who sacrificed your love to save a life? Or do you take one step back—and let the truth begin to undo the damage of everything left unsaid?