He Posted Ninety-Nine Sorries And I Posted My Goodbye Chapter 08

He Posted Ninety-Nine Sorries And I Posted My Goodbye Chapter 08

The cab moved along the highway, streetlights sliding past the window one by one.

Ethan remembered high school. Sophie in the seat ahead of him, turning around to talk to him, eyes bright.

Then college. She followed him to Northwood. Showed up on move-in day, face flushed from the sun, waving. “Ethan! I made it!”

She’d chattered nonstop on the walk in—Northwood was so big, she was finally in the same city as him.

He hadn’t thought anything of it then.

Now he realized—that was the most serious, the most wholehearted kind of affection a girl could offer.

And he’d given her nothing in return.

The cab stopped at his building. He paid, dragged his suitcase toward his dorm.

Passing the path they’d walked a thousand times, he stopped.

The ginkgo trees had long shed their leaves.

He remembered one autumn—she’d kicked through piles of yellow leaves, laughing over her shoulder. “Ethan, hurry up!”

He’d been on his phone. Didn’t look up.

She waited. Then came back and tugged his sleeve. “Why aren’t you answering?”

“Busy,” he’d said.

She let go quietly, walked beside him, and didn’t say another word.

Ethan stood under a streetlamp and closed his eyes.

Three days after he got back, Lily asked to meet.

“You went to see Sophie?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you guys—”

“Broke up.”

Lily was quiet for a moment, stirring her coffee.

“Was it because of me?”

Ethan looked at her. The question almost felt absurd.

Was it because of Lily?

No.

It was because of him.

Because he didn’t know how to appreciate her. Because he took her devotion for granted. Because he wasn’t there when she needed him.

Lily was just a mirror showing him exactly how much of a mess he was.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “It’s my problem.”

Lily looked up at him, eyes reddening.

“Ethan. You know I knew from the start—you never liked me that way.”

He didn’t answer.

“You liked Sophie. But you wouldn’t say it. Or maybe you figured you’d already got her, so why bother trying?”

Lily’s smile turned bitter.

“I’ll be honest—I crossed a lot of lines. I thought maybe you’d feel something back.”

“Clearly not. Not even close.”

…

Year one without Sophie, Ethan went to London four times.

Hoping to run into her.

He didn’t.

March, he went again.

Didn’t catch her.

December, the day it snowed, he went once more.

This time, he saw her.

She stood on the steps. Her hair was longer. Her whole presence quiet and distant.

Year three, he’d gone every year. Spring once, fall twice, winter four times.

Every trip came up empty.

Year three, he graduated. Eight years of med school, finally done.

Three years.

All those trips to London. All those messages. A hundred calls.

She didn’t reply to a single message. Didn’t answer a single call.

He knew it was pointless. But he couldn’t stop.

Like drowning—even when you know there’s no one on shore, you still thrash.

Maybe one day, Sophie would come back.