The coffee shop was bustling with the faint chatter of patrons and the hiss of the espresso machine, yet it felt like we were in our own little bubble when I stepped inside. My eyes landed on him instantly—Greco, seated at a small table near the middle of the room. His posture was relaxed, but there was a tension in his face that betrayed the calm demeanor he tried to project.

He smiled when he saw me approach, that same boyish charm that used to make my heart race. But today, it didn't. Not anymore. I slid into the seat across from him, setting my bag on the floor.

"So, you and Fuse, huh," he started, leaning back in his chair as a faint smile played on his lips. "I thought you'd wait for me because I promised you that I'd come back for you. And I did. I came back."

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "You came back," I said, meeting his gaze, "but not for me, Greco. Let's not confuse the two. You had a life here in this country, of course you'd come back." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "But let me tell you something. I waited for you. For four years, Greco. I held onto that promise, hoping you'd keep your word."

His smile faltered, and I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes.

"But I'm only human," I continued, my voice steady but tinged with the pain of old wounds. "I got tired of waiting. I had to ask myself—why was I holding onto someone who never held onto me? You left me, Greco. Not once, but over and over again. You always found a reason to leave, to pull away, to disappear."

His expression tightened, his jaw clenching as my words sank in. He didn't argue. He didn't need to. He knew I was right.

"But Fuse . . ." I said, and my lips softened into a smile at the thought of him. "Fuse stayed. Through every breakdown, every tear, every night I thought I couldn't take it anymore—he stayed. He made me smile again, even when I tried to push him away. He waited for me. He fought for me, even when I didn't think I was worth it."

A heavy silence settled between us, the weight of ten years pressing down like a storm cloud. Greco looked at me, his eyes searching mine as though hoping to find a spark of the love we once shared.

"Is there no way to fix this?" he asked finally, his voice quiet, almost pleading.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself before answering. "When you left me ten years ago, Greco, I cried every day, every night. I felt like I couldn't breathe without you. But Fuse was there. He didn't just help me move on—he helped me rebuild myself. He loved me when I couldn't even love myself."

He flinched as if my words physically hurt him. His hands clenched into fists on the table before he forced himself to relax. "Do you still love me?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

I hesitated for a moment, not because I didn't know the answer, but because I wanted to choose my words carefully. "I did," I said finally, my voice soft but firm.

A faint, bittersweet smile crossed his lips as he averted his gaze, his shoulders sagging under the weight of my answer. I saw the tears welling in his eyes, and though he tried to wipe them away quickly, I noticed. The vulnerability in him was both unfamiliar and heartbreaking.

"And Fuse?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Do you love him?"

For the last time, I looked him in the eye and gave him the truth. "I do."

Greco swallowed hard, nodding slowly as if he was finally accepting what had been clear all along.

It was almost poetic, really. I had spent so much of my life chasing someone who always ran away. And in doing so, I had almost overlooked the one person who had stood still, who had stayed by my side no matter what.

"I spent so long chasing you," I admitted, my voice soft. "I thought you were the one for me. But you weren't, Greco. You were the dream I had to let go of to wake up to my reality. And my reality is Fuse. He's my truth, my constant, my home."

He nodded again, a single tear slipping down his cheek before he gave me a small, resigned smile. "You deserve to be happy, NM. And if it's with him . . . then I'm glad you found it."

I reached across the table, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "You'll find your happiness too, Greco. It's out there for you. But it's not me."

As I stepped out of the coffee shop, the sunlight wrapped around me like a comforting embrace. The crisp air carried a sense of finality, a quiet assurance that everything had fallen into place. Greco had been such a pivotal part of my past—someone I once thought my life couldn't go on without. But now, standing on the other side of years of heartache and longing, I finally understood.

Greco wasn't my future. He wasn't even my present anymore. He was a chapter I had to close to truly move forward, a dream I had to wake up from to see the reality waiting for me. His life, as vibrant and chaotic as it was, didn't align with mine. It never did.

Fuse, on the other hand, was my anchor in every storm, my constant when everything else felt uncertain. With him, I had peace, love, and stability—the things I had unknowingly yearned for all along.

As I made my way home, a sense of calm washed over me. For the first time in years, there were no lingering doubts, no lingering what-ifs. Greco was not for me. His chaotic life was not for me.

And that was perfectly okay.

The end.