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    Emily gave a bitter smile.


    “Liam, you’re not empty. You’re full. Full of wounds, full of regret. But you’re not empty.” She looked down, then sat in the chair


    across from me.


    “You know, I always believed that love could grow. That little by little, you’d see me as something new, something safe. But I was


    Wrong.”


    1


    I wanted to deny it, wanted to tell her that she’s a good person, that I loved her in my own way. But I knew it wasn’t enough. I


    could see her eyes beginning to fill, her shoulders trembling as she fought back tears.


    “I know you’ve been trying, Liam. I know you want to give your best for Noah, for all of this. But you’re hurting yourself- and me


    — every time you pretend we can be like we were. When in fact, we never had a ‘before’ to begin with.”


    I buried my face in my hands, rubbing my temples that now felt heavy.


    “I’m sorry.”


    “Don’t.” Emily stood up at once.


    “Don’t say sorry. This isn’t about right or wrong. This is about… stopping ourselves from trying to nt flowers in soil that’s


    already barren.” 1


    Silence hung between us. Heavy. Painful.


    Emily walked toward the window, turning her back to me.


    “I’m going out of town for work, and I might stay there a few days. So we both can think more clearly. If one day you find an


    answer, I’ll be here to listen. But I won’t be a shadow in the corner of your heart anymore. I deserve a love that’s whole, not the


    leftover pieces of an old one.”


    1


    The sound of her footsteps on the floor was like a sledgehammer smashing the wall I’d long kept up. When the door shut behind


    her, silence took over again.


    I sat frozen at my desk. My vision blurred. It felt like I had just lost something I never truly had.


    1


    I lowered my head, staring at the desk that now felt like the wreckage of the life I had tried so hard to preserve. My fingers clutched the edge of the desk, as if letting go would make me copsepletely. But truthfully… I already had.


    Emily was right.


    She was always right.


    All this time, I had treated her like a bandage. Like someone who could calm the storm inside me, when I never really opened the door. I alwayspared, always saw shadows of the past-whether it was about Eva, or about all the unresolved pieces of my life.


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    I knew how much she loved me. But I also knew how exhausted she was from waiting-waiting for me to heal, to choose her, to be fully present not just in body… but in heart.


    And now she’s gone.


    Not because she didn’t love me anymore, but because she loved herself enough to no longer stay in uncertainty.


    My gaze fell on a small photo in the corner of the desk. A picture of Emily and me during ourst beach trip, before everything turned nd. Her smile was wide, her eyes bright. At the time, I thought I was happy. But I was wrong.


    The only one happy… was the face in the photo. Not the real me.


    I pushed back my chair, stood up, and walked toward the window Emily had just left. Her scent still lingered in the air. Warm and


    sweet, like her. Outside, the sky was starting to fade-a twilight stripped of color, like me.


    1


    “I deserve a love that’s whole…”


    Her words echoed in my head, chipping away at my defenses. I nodded slowly, though no one was there to see it. Yes, she deserves it. And maybe, for the first time, I had to admit that I didn’t.


    Not because I couldn’t love.


    But because I never truly learned how. 1


    I was too busy embracing the past. Too busy regretting. Too afraid of losing, that I didn’t even notice-what I was holding on to


    was already slipping away, one by one.


    Emily was just thest.


    But strangely, deep within this emptiness, there was a faint whisper telling me this could be the beginning. Maybe not to win Emily back, but to learn how to be someone who is worthy of loving… and being loved.


    That night, I stood in front of Noah’s bookshelf. A small shelf in the corner of his room filled with fairy tale books and toys he once


    adored. There was a red robot there, one of its arms broken. I picked it up, staring at it for a long time.


    That robot was a gift from Sienna. Noah never forgot.


    I lowered my head, clutching the robot in my hand. There was a sharp ache that tightened in my chest. Emily was right–I was full


    of wounds. And those wounds hadn’t healed. But now I had to learn to face the truth: love can’t be forced, and sometimes letting


    go is the highest form of love. 1


    The sound of the door opening broke my thoughts. When I turned, Noah stood at the doorway with sleepy eyes and a gloomy face. His favorite dinosaur plushie was clutched tightly in his arms.


    “Daddy… I’m sleepy,” he said softly.


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    I got up, walked over to him, and lifted his small body into my arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around my neck, resting his body against my chest. I could feel his slow, warm breaths-like a gentle whisper that soothed yet struck my heart with guilt I


    couldn’t shake.


    Iid him on the bed, pulling the soft nket up to his chest. Beside him, I sat down and picked up one of the storybooks from the


    small table next to the bed.


    “Which story do you want tonight?” I asked.


    Noah pointed to the book with a red dragon on the cover.


    “This one… about the prince and the dragon.”


    I opened to the first page and began to read. My voice tried to sound cheerful, though my heart was far from calm. I nced at him


    -his eyes were still open. Instead of sleepy, his gaze was empty, staring at the ceiling.


    “Daddy…” he called softly, interrupting my reading.


    “Hm?” I murmured as I stroked his hair.


    “Why isn’t Mommying home? I miss her…” he said, his eyes welling up with tears.


    “Is Mommy mad at me?”


    My breath caught in my throat. The book in my hands suddenly felt heavy, like I couldn’t hold it any longer. I looked at him, but I


    didn’t know what to say.


    No. Mommy isn’t angry. Mommy is just… hurting. But how could I exin that to a child his age? 1


    I tried to smile, though my voice was hoarse as I said, “Mommy’s not angry, sweetheart…”


    “But why won’t Mommye home? If I promise to be a good boy, she’lle back, right?”


    My chest tightened. I could only nod slowly and pull him into my arms. Noah rested his head on my chest, quietly sobbing.


    I stared at the ceiling, biting my lip to hold back my emotions.


    I had already lost Sienna. But I couldn’t lose Noah too.


    I held my son tightly, silently embracing the growing guilt inside me, not knowing when-or if-it would ever fade.


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