The evening air was warm, with a soft breeze stirring the curtains in the dimly lit room. Sarah sat across from Jacob at the dinner table, their plates half-eaten, the scent of rosemary chicken lingering in the space between them. Jacob had been sharing stories from his college days—stories that were once filled with laughter and light. But tonight, something was different.
"...and then, I remember, we all piled into that beat-up van, heading out for that last-minute road trip to the coast," Jacob said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. He laughed, a sound that should have filled Sarah with warmth, but it didn’t. Not tonight.
His smile faltered for the briefest of moments, his eyes flicking to hers before he quickly looked away. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but Sarah caught it. It wasn’t the first time tonight she’d seen that look—something weighed on him, something that didn’t align with the carefree stories he told. Every time Jacob mentioned his old friends or recalled a funny incident, his smile would crack, and his eyes would darken, as though memories of joy were tainted by something unspeakable.
Sarah leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand, pretending to listen with a soft smile. But inside, her mind raced. What was it? What was the thing Jacob wasn’t saying? She had known him for nearly five years now, and in all that time, he had never seemed so… distant.
She played along, nodding at the right moments, asking questions about the wild parties and pranks. But the nagging sensation wouldn’t leave her alone. The subtle tremor in his voice, the distant glaze in his eyes every time he brought up certain names, the way his hand hovered near his phone but never quite reached for it—it all seemed off.
"Did you ever keep in touch with your old friends?" Sarah asked, her voice light, casual. But it was a calculated move. She needed to understand what was happening beneath the surface.
Jacob paused, mid-sip of his wine, the glass stopping just before his lips. For a fraction of a second, something flickered in his eyes—regret? Pain? He placed the glass down, a little too carefully.
"Not really," he said, staring at the tablecloth. "People drift apart, you know. Life happens." He forced another smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Sarah tilted her head, watching him closely. "You’ve never really talked much about them before, not in detail, I mean."
Jacob sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I don’t think about those days as much anymore. It was a different time, different people. Most of us moved on."
It was an answer, but not the one she was looking for. There was something more here, something he was holding back. Sarah’s heart ached to reach out, to push him to share whatever was weighing on him, but she knew Jacob well enough to recognize that pushing too hard would only cause him to retreat further.
Still, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.
"You always light up when you talk about the pranks, the parties, the adventures," she said softly. "But tonight… it’s like you’re only half there. What’s really going on, Jake? Why does it feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?"
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, Jacob looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting with his napkin. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable, before he finally exhaled and met her gaze. His eyes were tired, shadows etched beneath them.
"I never told you about the accident, did I?" he asked quietly.
Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. "Accident?"
Jacob leaned back in his chair, the weight of the past suddenly visible in the lines of his face. "It was our last semester. We were all getting ready to graduate, and we were so… carefree, you know? Nothing could touch us. We thought we had all the time in the world." His voice cracked slightly, but he continued. "There was this party, like the hundredth one that month. We were celebrating everything—exams being over, the future being wide open. And we drank. A lot."
Sarah’s stomach tightened. She could feel where this was going but didn’t dare interrupt.
"One of my closest friends, Alex, he… he wasn’t supposed to drive that night. We all knew that. But somehow, he ended up with the keys. We were too drunk to notice, or maybe we just didn’t care. I don’t know." Jacob’s voice faltered, and he closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself. "I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve done something."
He opened his eyes, and the pain in them was raw, unfiltered. "He crashed the car on the highway. He didn’t make it."
The room seemed to grow smaller, the air heavier. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat as the weight of his words sank in. She could see it now, the cracks in his stories, the haunted look in his eyes whenever he mentioned those friends, those nights that should have been nothing but happy memories.
"It tore us apart," Jacob continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "None of us knew how to handle it. Some blamed me, some blamed themselves. We just… drifted away. It’s easier to bury it, to pretend those days were just about parties and fun. But every time I think about it, every time I talk about those times, it’s there. It’s always there."
Sarah reached across the table, taking his hand in hers. His fingers were cold, trembling slightly. "Jake, I’m so sorry. You never had to carry that alone."
For the first time that night, Jacob’s smile wasn’t forced. It was small, sad, but real. "I didn’t want to drag you into it. It’s been years, and I thought… I thought I could just leave it in the past. But I guess some things never really go away."
Sarah squeezed his hand, her heart heavy with the weight of his confession. "You don’t have to face it alone anymore," she said gently. "I’m here. We’ll face it together."
Jacob looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and sorrow. "I know," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Thank you."
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore. It was filled with understanding, with the quiet comfort of two people who had just shared something deeper than words. The past was still there, lingering like a shadow, but now it wasn’t just Jacob’s burden to carry.
And in that moment, Sarah knew that while they couldn’t change what had happened, they could face whatever came next—together.
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