A FARAWAY STAR

 

"I want to be braver. I want to take more risks,” I said, when you asked what I would do if I could turn back time.

 

You laughed. “Like… marrying me?”

 

I froze. Laughed back, but emptily.

Marry.

One word that’s always been too big for us; too beautiful, too dangerous.

Not because we don’t love each other, but precisely because we do.

 

“We shouldn’t take this for granted, should we?” you said, light-hearted, as you scooped the last bite of mie ayam into your mouth. You smiled even while chewing; God, that smile still bloomed as if nothing was ending.

 

“No. Of course not. We should celebrate this, actually. After everything, we’ve finally grown brave enough… brave enough to say ‘enough’.”

 

I tried to sound light, like you. But my heart was sinking, a ship swallowed whole by a silent ocean.

 

Right after today, we’ll return to the unknown. Your number will become just another name buried in my contacts, one that will never light up my screen again. Even seeing your profile picture will be off-limits, because we both know; once we look, once we peek, everything we’ve built to protect this fragile goodbye will collapse. “Enough” will no longer be enough.

 

“Right. So, what should we do, then?” Your voice cut through the haze of my thoughts like a gentle splash.

 

I took a slow sip of my sugarless iced tea before answering, “Maybe we can do... a farewell speech? You know, like people do on their last day at work. Say the hopes, the gratitude. Closure, in a way.”

 

You smiled wider this time. “A speech? You sure that won’t feel too formal?”

Then, chuckling softly, “You know me. I want something personal. Something only you and I would understand.”

 

I wanted to say I didn’t know because I really didn’t. My heart was breaking and somehow relieved at the same time. I couldn’t think of the perfect gesture or activity to close this day. What I really wanted was simple: to hold you tight, to let silence speak for us. To let the feeling wrap around us, strong enough to carry all the words I couldn’t bear to say.

 

“Pass. Please, don’t make me think,” I whimpered. “You know this decision already drained all my energy. Please… don’t push me to think.”

I tried to pull off my usual cutely annoying face, hoping it would make you laugh, maybe nudge me playfully or tap my head the way you always did.

 

But instead of your familiar smile, all I saw was sadness.

 

A kind of sadness I couldn’t read clearly was it; disappointment? Regret? Love? Desperation? Maybe all at once.

 

“I’m going to miss you, you know,” you said, eyes fixed on mine. “I’m saying it now because I know I’ll never let myself say it again, even if I want to.”

 

You stared, waiting. My face didn’t know what expression to wear. My heart knew, but my mouth hesitated.

 

“I miss you already,” I blurted out, almost too fast.

 

Then I stood, asking you to follow me out of the mie ayam stall.

 

We walked side by side, trying not to hold hands, pretending our palms weren’t burning for it.

But like I said before, I didn’t want to take this for granted.

I wanted this to be the happiest goodbye ever, one where the joy was so bright it could bleach out the pain.

A farewell so gentle, so final, that neither of us would ever need to remember this happened at all.

 

You headed toward the parking lot, but I gently held your arm.

“Can we just walk instead? Do you remember? We used to walk this sidewalk, back then.”

 

Your forehead wrinkled slightly. “Sure. So... you want to relive the sweet times, huh?” you teased, flashing that cruel little smile.

 

“I wish I could,” I replied.

 

“You could,” you said. “But the truth is, you won’t. Even now, you could go back. But you won’t, right?”

 

I wish I could.

I didn’t say it aloud. Only my heart knew how badly I wanted to.

 

And so we walked, in silence.

I didn’t know what you were thinking. I wasn’t even sure what I was thinking anymore.

 

“Here,” I said, pointing to the corner. “This is where we held hands for the first time. Remember?”

 

“Of course. You made me ask permission first.”

I laughed. “Yeah. You were so polite. What a very well-mannered guy.”

 

“It’s because I respected you,” you said with a little grin. “I wanted to be sure you were okay with being touched.”

 

“You’re funny.”

 

“Am I? I always thought I was just handsome. But funny too? Wow. Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

We laughed. Then our eyes met for a second, searching for the last traces of love, buried beneath the rubble of what we once were.

 

“May I hold your hand again?” I asked.

 

Your eyes widened a little, like you were weighing the cost.

 

“Yes. You may.”

 

You reached out, gently. Our fingers interlaced like they remembered how to do this like they knew they didn’t have many moments left.

 

We swung our hands back and forth like a pendulum. Aimless, confused, as if even they didn’t know which direction life was pulling us.

 

Then you spoke.

 

“I didn’t like stars. I used to wonder why admire something so beautiful but so far away? It felt pointless. A waste. But now… I think I’m going to start liking stars. Because they remind me of you. You’re beautiful… and distant. Out of reach. But that doesn’t make you any less mesmerizing.”

 

Your words sounded like a poem. I wondered if you’d found them online the night before.

Still, I liked the image. A star. Not bad.

A faraway star.

 

You stopped walking and turned to face me.

“Why? Don’t you want to be a star?” you asked, maybe sensing something in my silence.

 

“I like it. But… it kind of hurts.”

 

I didn’t mean to say that. But it slipped out, truth tends to do that when hearts are breaking.

 

You said nothing.

Then your arms moved toward me and wrapped me in a hug. Safe, warm, final.

 

I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

The tears came. Quiet at first. Then heavy. Unstoppable.

 

You gently ran your fingers through my hair, and then, without a word, placed a Bluetooth earphone in my ear.

 

A song played. Melodic. Familiar. And far too fitting.

 

So you sailed away into a grey sky morning

Now I’m here to stay, love can be so boring

Nothing’s quite the same now

I just say your name now

But it’s not so bad…

You’re only the best I ever had.

 

You don’t want me back.

You’re just the best I ever had.    

-The Best I ever Had, Vertical Horizon-

 

The song faded.

You didn’t say anything, just kept holding me like the world outside didn’t exist.

 

But time always finds a way back in.

 

You took a step back, your hands slowly letting go of mine, like releasing something sacred.

We stood there, a breath away from each other.

You smiled. Not the teasing one. The real one. The one I’d seen when you were sleepy, or shy, or quietly happy.

 

“This is it, huh?” you said.

 

I nodded.

We both knew we couldn’t stretch this moment any further. If we did, it would unravel everything.

 

“Thank you,” you said, as if we’d just finished a long, beautiful trip together.

“Thank you for being you. Thank you for letting me love you.”

 

I wanted to say something clever. Something perfect. But all I could manage was,

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

 

You gave a small nod, then turned around.

 

I stood there as your figure grew smaller with every step until you were gone, swallowed by the soft hum of the city.

 

I didn’t cry again. Not this time.

 

I just stood still, like a statue built from everything we once were.

My hands still remembered your warmth. My ears still echoed your voice. My chest still carried the weight of goodbye.

 

And then, I took a breath. And walked the other way.

 

--THE END--