Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat.

Matthew sighed, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in sync with the rain. The raindrops pounded on the windshield, creating a rhythmic beat that matched his growing impatience. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he cursed softly to himself. The wiper was working for almost an hour and he had already switched it on and off out of boredom. The taillights ahead seemed to mock him with their relentless red glow.

Just as he searched for anything to distract him, the old song on the radio stopped abruptly—the introduction of the local news crackled to life with a news report. "In breaking news, a mild earthquake has been reported in the downtown area of... 9:27 in the evening. Residents are advised to stay alert for any aftershocks..."

Matthew frowned. He hadn't felt a thing. Had he been so lost in his frustration that the ground shaking beneath him had gone unnoticed? The news anchor on the radio continued, "... minor structural damage in the affected area. Thankfully, no injuries have been reported so far..."

The cars around him finally crept forward, just by an agonizing inch, as if the universe was conspiring to slow him down. Matthew's mind wandered as he listened absentmindedly to the updates. As if the universe itself was conspiring. He thought of that before... when he lost her.

Impulsively, Matthew reached for his phone. He was cursing himself inward as his fingers hesitated over the screen. Should he even call her? What could he possibly say after all this time? Against his better judgment, he dialed her number, half-hoping it would go to voicemail. The call registered and his phone rang. After a few heartbeats, it stopped.

She picked up.

The silence was deafening. What Matthew had done was finally sinking in. The weight of their unspoken words hung between them like the heavy rain outside.

Until her voice, soft and unexpectedly familiar, broke through the static of the night. "Hey, Matt. It's been a while."

Matthew forcefully swallowed the lump in his throat, praying to the heavens his voice wouldn't break. "How l-long has it been? Two years?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Two years."

"Listen," he sighed, wracking his brain with a reason for calling. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I was driving and there's this earthquake..."

"An earthquake? Are you okay?"

"I am! I'm fine, just stuck in traffic... The epicenter is downtown, though. Right beside your house. I just w-wanted to check on you."

"I'm all right. I didn't feel the earthquake, honestly. But thank you for checking in, Matt."

"Right... That's all."

Another bout of silence followed and Matthew almost regretted calling. As the seconds stretched into eternity, Matthew felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He wanted to hear her voice. He didn't want the call to end, not yet. But he knew deep down that their paths had diverged irreversibly. She was right; it had been two years. What more could he say?

Matthew lets out a shaky breath. He has to end the call for both of them.

"How's Billy?" the voice on the other line broke his train of thought.

His eyes lit up and he smiled as if she could see him. "He's grown now! You'll be surprised if you see him. He couldn't even reach my knees two years ago, but he could tackle me down while play-fighting these days."

She chuckled. "I probably won't be able to carry that dog anymore."

"Heh, you can try."

For a moment, the two of them laughed.

"He still likes to sleep under the tables. Even when I changed the one in our apartment for a smaller table, he squeezes himself underneath."

Matthew paled when he realized what he just said. "I meant, my apartment. Sorry."

"You're good. I'm glad to hear both of you are doing well...

Some things never change, huh?"

"Yeah... I wish we never changed, too."

He really did it this time. He never heard silence quite this loud. Matthew closed his eyes and massaged his temples, sighing. "I'm sorry. The fatigue must be getting into me. I don't know what I'm saying anymore."

"How are you holding up these past few days?"

"Honestly, a bit tired. I haven't gotten sleep for two... or three? Three nights now. Hearing your voice helps somehow." Even after all this time.

"I'm glad I could help in some way, Matt. I really am, but..." she paused, her tone gentle yet tinged with something he knew too well.

Matthew's heart drummed in his chest, a sinking sensation heavy on his lungs. His stomach lurched as an irrevocable realization hit his mind. His pulse quickened and he braced himself for her next words, hoping—desperately hoping he wouldn't hear the words he feared the most.

"Please let me go."

Her plead echoed in his mind, resonating with a weight that crushed him. Matthew gasped, feeling his lungs constrict painfully. His hands trembled, fingers curling up on the steering wheel as he struggled to grasp the reality unfolding before him.

"Matt, you know I'm... I'm not there anymore."

"D-don't." He choked, "Don't say it, please." Tilting his head upward, he tried to stop the tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

"I'm gone, Matt. I'm not with you anymore. You have to accept that."

"No... no, you can't be gone. I just... I just called because I was worried and... and I missed you. I miss you."

"I know, Matt," she replied and he could swear this was real. "And I miss you too. But you have to move on. Holding onto the past won't bring me back."

Matthew's chest heaved and he sobbed. "I can't do this, love. I can't lose you again."

"You won't lose me, love. Letting go doesn't mean forgetting. I'll always be a part of you, hmn? Don't let your grief keep you from finding happiness without me.

I love you, Matt."

Matthew collapsed onto the steering wheel, his shoulders shaking with each ragged breath. Tears cascaded down his face, leaving trails of salt on his flushed cheeks. "I love you. God, I love you so much it hurts."

"I wish I could stay longer. Hold you one more time. I can't, love. So live for me, will you?

"Until we meet again, Matt. Goodbye."

"... goodbye."

Matthew sat in stunned silence as the traffic slowly begins to move again, the reality of the conversation sinking in. The rain still pounded on the windshield, creating a rhythmic beat, while the windshield wiper moved back and forth. The traffic light finally turned green, and the cars around him inched forward. The radio was playing another old song, but his ears were focused on another sound. His phone lay dormant in his hand, the glow of the screen illuminating his face as a voicemail notification popped up.

"Hey there. Sorry, I missed your call," her voice, laced with warmth and familiarity, filled the car. "Leave a message, and I'll get back to you soon."

But he knew, that no matter how many times he called, she would never get back to him again.