Short Story: Love, Guilt and Tears

After the kiss, they walked in separate directions.

He smiled softly, looking down at his hands. I gave him my love, he thought, but he gave me his life instead.

No matter how much he tried, he knew he could never repay what had been done for him. All he could do now—all he ever truly wanted to do—was to keep loving him. That love was enough.

But guilt clung to every step he took. With each one, a part of him hoped… just hoped that if he turned around, there might still be something left. A sign. A sliver of hope.

He stole a glance over his shoulder—once, a fleeting glimpse as he kept walking. Then again, this time pausing, letting himself look one last time. One last image to hold onto.

And that’s when it happened.

He saw him. He hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, in the same place where they had parted, eyes locked on him, as if time had stopped and nothing else in the world mattered. Tears welled up instantly. Not out of sadness, but from the quiet realization: He didn’t fight enough to stay.