The Art of Leaving

Elena's palm was sweating against her coffee cup as she sat across from Marcus, his dreadlocks pulled back into a loose bun that made him look younger than his forty years. The conference room felt smaller than usual, or maybe it was just the weight of what she needed to say.

"You're really leaving?" Marcus asked, his fingers tracing the rim of his own cup. "After everything?"

"It's not about you," Elena said, though she knew that was partially a lie. "The position in Chicago—it's an opportunity I can't ignore."

Marcus laughed, a short bitter sound. "Right. The corporate bullshit line. Meanwhile, I'm stuck here managing a team that's about as cooperative as a herd of cats."

Elena looked away. She remembered the baseball game they'd attended last summer, how they'd shared stolen kisses in the stands while everyone else watched the game. That was before the promotion, before the awkward distance settled between them like morning fog.

"You're acting like this is easy," she said quietly.

"Is it?" Marcus leaned forward, his eyes searching hers. "Because from where I'm sitting, you're choosing ambition over—" He stopped himself. The word hung between them anyway.

"I'm thirty-five, Marcus. My mother was divorced with two kids by this age. My hair is already starting to show gray strands. I can't keep waiting for..." She couldn't finish.

"For what? For timing that doesn't exist?" He stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You know what the worst part is? I would have come with you. If you'd asked."

Elena felt something crack open in her chest. She'd assumed he would never leave his family, his stability, the life he'd built in this city. She'd made the decision alone, protecting herself from rejection by rejecting him first.

"Marcus—"

"Save it." He walked to the door, then turned back. "You know how in baseball, sometimes you swing and miss? That's life, El. But you never even took the bat off your shoulder."

The door clicked shut behind him. Elena sat alone in the conference room as the afternoon light moved across the table, thinking about all the things she'd been too afraid to ask for, and wondering if she'd just made the worst mistake of her life—or the only one that would finally make her start living it.