Two days after I left, Austin showed up at Addison’s door.
He didn’t bring flowers. He didn’t bring excuses.
He looked tired.
Like the weight of everything finally caught up to him when there was no one left to absorb it.
“I called the restaurant,” he said quietly. “I apologized. I sounded like an idiot.”
I didn’t answer.
“I also called my mom. Told her everything. For once… I didn’t shift it onto you.”
A pause.
“I didn’t realize how much you were carrying until you stopped carrying it for me.”
That line hit harder than anything he’d said in years.
“I’m not asking you to come home tonight,” he added. “I just… don’t want to lose you.”
For the first time, there was no assumption in his voice.
Only fear.
And understanding.
I looked at him.
Fifteen years of being “still there tomorrow.”
Now he was finally learning what it meant when tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed.
“I don’t know what happens next,” I said.
He nodded. “Neither do I. But I want to learn it with you this time.”
And for the first time in a long time… I didn’t automatically say yes.
Or no.
Just: “We’ll see if you mean it.”