TOO LATE

The scent of burnt toast clung to the air. Ava stood by the kitchen sink, staring at the charred edges of breakfast she didn’t want anymore. The house was unusually quiet. It wasn’t the first morning like this, and it wouldn’t be the last.

From the living room, her phone buzzed with a text. She didn’t rush to check it—texts lately only carried a mix of half-hearted apologies or clipped instructions. Still, when she finally wandered over, the message was from Nate.

"I'm on my way. Give me fifteen minutes."

She read it twice, her heart knotting up in a way that annoyed her. He didn’t deserve her tension. Not anymore.

---

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Fifteen minutes stretched into twenty. By the time the doorbell rang, Ava had already drained her coffee and packed her bag. She opened the door with a measured calm, finding Nate standing there, looking like he hadn’t slept. His hair was disheveled, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up unevenly. There was something about the way his eyes darted, searching for hers, that made her chest ache despite herself.

"You’re late," she said, stepping aside to let him in.

"Traffic," he replied.

"You live two streets over."

Nate didn’t answer, and Ava didn’t press him. She went to the couch, plopped down, and stared at the TV remote she hadn’t touched all morning. He followed her in but didn’t sit.

"How’ve you been?" he asked after a pause, his voice careful, like he was picking his way through broken glass.

Ava let out a humorless laugh. "Really? That’s where we’re starting?"

"I—" He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know how to do this."

"Clearly." She crossed her arms, leaning back. "Just say what you came to say, Nate."

He hesitated, chewing on words before finally spitting them out. "I messed up. I know that. I just… I keep thinking about everything and—"

"Stop." Her tone was sharp enough to slice through his rambling. "Don’t do the ‘everything’ speech. Be specific, for once."

He blinked, startled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, don’t act like this is some cosmic accident. You didn’t just ‘mess up.’ You made choices, Nate. Repeatedly. You don’t get to vague your way out of this."

The air between them tightened. Nate looked like he wanted to argue but didn’t know where to start. Ava watched him, her jaw set. This was what always happened—he’d make himself look small, broken, and she’d feel obligated to reach out, to fix him.

Not this time.

---

"Do you think I wanted any of it?" Nate asked finally, his voice rising.

"Does it matter?" she shot back.

"Yes, it matters! You act like I woke up one day and decided to ruin everything. Do you know how much pressure I’ve been under?"

Ava’s laugh was sharp and bitter. "Oh, poor you. So much pressure. Was that before or after you started seeing her?"

He winced like she’d slapped him. "It wasn’t like that."

"Then what was it like? Explain it to me, Nate, because from where I’m standing, it’s exactly like that. You lied. Over and over. And now you’re here, hoping what? That I’ll tell you it’s okay? That I’ll let you off the hook because you’ve finally decided to feel bad about it?"

"I’m trying to fix things!" he shouted.

Ava stood, her voice icy and controlled. "You’re trying to fix you. This isn’t about us; it never was. You just don’t want to feel like the bad guy anymore."

Nate stared at her, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for a defense. He looked lost, small, but Ava didn’t flinch this time. She felt no sympathy for the silence he had earned.

---

"Look," he said after a long pause, his voice quieter now, desperate. "I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m asking for one anyway."

Ava turned away, her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the window. She didn’t speak right away, letting the quiet expand between them.

"I wanted to believe you could change," she said finally, "for months, I waited. Every time you said you’d do better, I believed you. But the thing is, Nate, people don’t just change because they’re sorry. They change because they have to."

"I can—"

"No," she cut him off. "You can’t. Because even now, you don’t get it. This isn’t about what you want, or how you feel. It’s about the damage you’ve done, and the fact that you’re too late to fix it."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and final. Nate’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him. He looked down at the floor, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I loved you," he said quietly.

"I know," Ava replied. "And maybe that’s the saddest part."