the bus ride felt endless, the road lined with memories i tried to forget. my grandparents thought i came to visit, to rest from the city, but the truth is, i came because i’m finally ready.
it’s been years since i last set foot in my grandparents town—quiet, unchanged, and cruelly familiar—used to be the one place i swore i’d never return to.
but grief is strange;
it circles back to where it began.
he and i ended. five years. that’s how long he was mine; i was his. then one day, he said, “i cheated on you.” no tears. just silence that split my world in half. i begged for the truth, but he only smiled and left.
i tried to hate him, but love doesn’t vanish just because it hurts. there are kinds of pain that scream but this one whispered. it whispered until it became silence.
the lake waited for me, still as ever. its stillness looked like peace—or maybe pretense. i walked until i reached the water—it looked like a memory waiting to be touched. a song played. i followed its rhythm until i reached the place i almost forgot existed. and there he was—the back of a man in white, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark hair tousled by the wind. the song he played was one we used to hum under the rain.
my chest tightened.
every note was a thread.
the world fell quiet, except for the sound of his music and the heartbeat i wished would stop aching. i took a step back, ready to flee from what my heart could not name—but the earth caught me first. or rather, he did.
“saki…” i uttered.
he smiled—warm, quiet, heartbreakingly familiar.
and then, everything went dark.
i woke to my grandmother’s trembling hands. her eyes were red, her voice soft with worry. i searched the room. “where’s saki?” she didn’t answer. instead, she pulled me into her arms, and for the first time, i didn’t resist. her hands on my back felt like the first warmth i’d let myself receive in years.
“just cry, naiah.” she murmured. “grandma’s here.” and i did. i cried like i did that night years ago, only this time, the tears didn’t fight back.
they fell easily—like acceptance.
a week later, i returned to the lake. no song. no figure.
only the water, and the sky it tried to imitate.
“you lied,” i whispered. “you said you cheated.”
what he really betrayed was time. his heart—fragile. borrowed. it had always been against him. the days he spent with me were borrowed minutes, the laughter stolen from an ending he already knew. he carried that lie to his grave because even dying, he was still trying to love me right. he left wearing guilt like armor, hoping it would make my love fade faster. but love doesn’t fade that way. it lingers.
i knelt and closed my eyes,
feeling the air brush against my skin.
“it’s okay now,” i said softly. “you can now rest.”
a breeze passed through me.
warm and fleeting. almost like a touch.
and for the first time in years, i smiled.
“thank you,” i whispered.
“for loving me the best way you knew how.”
the wind moved—gentle. forgiving.
as if answering back.
“thank you for finding me, naiah.”
the wind seemed to say.
“you can let go now… i love you, always.”
and maybe that’s what love truly is—
not staying, but being remembered kindly.
november 8.
his heart stopped.
mine learned to beat
for both of us.
…
saki and naiah
author’s note:
— bled by @achilleusdeirdre
— 8th of november, year 2025
— open to criticism; all echoes welcome.
— lowercase intended for signature writing.
The Ruin Script 
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