Paul sat in his apartment, surrounded by silence. The walls felt closer than usual, the air heavier. He hadn't spoken to Joey since he returned. He hadn't told her the truth. He hadn't told anyone.
The scholarship was a lie.
He'd been scammed—fooled by a fake agency, promised a future that didn't exist. He'd left everything behind for a dream built on deception.
And now, he didn't know how to face her.
He opened his laptop and began to write.
> Dear Joey,
> I don't know how to start this. I don't know if you'll ever read it. But I need to say it anyway. I left because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was building something for us. But I was wrong. I was tricked. And I didn't know how to tell you. I still don't.
He paused, staring at the blinking cursor.
> I saw you. With him. Zed. And I wanted to hate you. But I couldn't. Because I left. And you stayed. And maybe you deserve someone who stays.
He stopped typing.
He didn't send the letter.
Instead, he printed it, folded it, and placed it in a drawer.
He sat back, closed his eyes, and let the silence return.
Outside, the city moved on. But Paul didn't.
Not yet.