134. Flashbacks.

The days melted into weeks as Sarah buried herself in her books, creating a fortress of textbooks and notes. Each day was a carefully orchestrated routine—mornings filled with practice exams, afternoons spent in the library, and late nights where she scribbled frantically until her hands ached. But with every page turned and every calculation solved, an emptiness gnawed at her.

Aaron’s absence was a void she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she tried. She told herself this was for the best—that pushing him away was necessary. Yet, late at night, when her world grew quiet, the memories of his warmth and their shared laughter crept in. Aaron, her anchor in a storm she refused to acknowledge, had become a memory she locked away.

Aaron, meanwhile, struggled in his own silence. Life without Sarah was a hollow repetition of days. He went to class, laughed at his friends’ jokes, and even smiled when people asked him how he was doing. But inside, he felt adrift. Sarah had been his only constant in a world where both of them had learned to survive without the safety of family.

Aaron’s parents had passed away when he was barely thirteen, leaving him in the care of a distant uncle who barely knew him. The man provided a roof and food, but no affection or understanding. He had grown up learning to fend for himself, to keep his emotions locked away. Until Sarah. She had broken through his defenses with her sharp wit and quiet strength.

Sarah’s story wasn’t much different. Orphaned at ten, she had bounced between foster homes until she aged out of the system. She learned early that the only person she could rely on was herself. Trusting people was a luxury she couldn’t afford. But Aaron had been different. He had seen her for who she was, not for the scars of her past.

One evening, Sarah sat in the library, her pen tapping against the edge of her notebook. She was reviewing her chemistry notes when a familiar figure appeared in her peripheral vision. Aaron stood a few tables away, looking unsure of whether to approach her. Their eyes met, and Sarah felt her heart twist.

Before she could think, she called out softly, “Aaron, wait.”

He hesitated before walking toward her. The weight of unspoken words hung heavily between them.

“We need to talk,” Sarah said, gesturing toward the library courtyard.

They stepped outside, the cool evening air brushing against their skin. They found a bench under the oak tree where they had spent countless evenings talking about everything and nothing.

“I know I’ve been distant,” Sarah began, her voice trembling. “But I needed to focus. These exams... they’re everything to me.”

Aaron crossed his arms, leaning against the backrest. “I get that,” he said quietly. “But why did you shut me out completely? I thought we were in this together.”

Sarah hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “It’s not just the exams,” she admitted. “I needed to figure out what I want—for myself, for my future. And I didn’t want to... burden you.”

Aaron flinched at the word. “Burden me?” he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “Sarah, you’re not a burden. You never were.”

Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes, but she blinked them away. “I don’t know how to let people in, Aaron. My whole life, I’ve had to fight for everything—my space, my survival, my dreams. Letting someone in feels... dangerous.”

Aaron’s gaze softened. “Sarah, I get it. I’ve been there too. But shutting people out doesn’t make the pain go away. It just makes you lonelier.”

Sarah looked down at her hands, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to lose you. But I didn’t know how to keep you, either.”

“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Aaron said, reaching for her hand. His touch was warm, grounding. “We’ve both lost so much, Sarah. But that doesn’t mean we have to lose each other.”

The words hung in the air, their weight settling over them. For the first time in weeks, Sarah allowed herself to meet his gaze fully. The vulnerability in his eyes mirrored her own, and she felt a pang of guilt for pushing him away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I thought I was protecting you. But maybe I was just protecting myself.”

Aaron nodded, his expression one of understanding. “We’re both a little broken, Sarah. But maybe that’s why we work. We don’t have to be perfect for each other. We just have to be there.”

The tears she had been holding back finally spilled over. She quickly wiped them away, embarrassed, but Aaron gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay to cry, you know. You don’t always have to be so strong.”

The floodgates opened, and Sarah sobbed quietly as Aaron pulled her into a comforting embrace. She clung to him, her walls crumbling in his arms. For the first time in a long while, she felt safe.

When her tears finally subsided, she pulled back and gave him a small, wobbly smile. “I missed you,” she said.

“I missed you too,” Aaron replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

The sun had set by now, and the first stars began to twinkle in the night sky. They sat together in companionable silence, the tension between them easing.

“Do you think we’ll ever feel whole?” Sarah asked quietly.

Aaron thought for a moment before replying. “I don’t know. But I do know that having you around makes me feel a little less broken.”

Her heart ached at his honesty, but it also filled her with a strange sense of hope. Maybe neither of them would ever be entirely whole. But together, they could find something close to it.

As they stood to leave, Aaron slipped his hand into hers. “Come on,” he said with a small smile. “Let’s get out of here. You’ve been working too hard. You deserve a break.”

Sarah hesitated before nodding. “Okay. But don’t let me slack off too much. Finals are still coming.”

Aaron chuckled. “Deal. We’ll conquer the world after finals.”

Walking hand in hand, they left the library behind. For the first time in weeks, Sarah felt like she could breathe again. She didn’t have to carry everything alone anymore.

And neither did Aaron.