By the time November rolled around, the air had turned crisp, and the campus trees were dressed in golden reds and burnt oranges. The scent of fresh coffee and fallen leaves filled the walkways as students bundled in sweaters hurried to their classes. For Athena and Mason, things had found a new rhythm—familiar, but still fragile.
They had moved forward, slowly, trying to rebuild what had been nearly shattered. They studied together in the library between classes, and Mason started leaving little sticky notes in Athena's textbooks—random doodles, inside jokes, or simple "I'm proud of you" messages. Athena, in return, made him playlists to listen to before games or practices, filled with songs that reminded her of them.
But with midterms behind them and finals approaching, stress was mounting once again.
One Tuesday afternoon, Athena sat in her shared apartment, curled up on the couch with her laptop and a dozen open tabs. Her eyes burned from staring at the screen too long, and her phone buzzed with a message from Mason:
"Running late again, Coach is pushing us hard before finals. I'll come by after."
She sighed. It had become a common message lately.
Even though things were better between them, time was slipping again. Mason was busier than ever, and though he meant well, Athena still found herself eating dinner alone more often than not. They hadn't had a proper date since their one-year anniversary that ended in disaster. The effort was there—but the time wasn't.
That night, Mason arrived at almost 11 p.m., his bag slung over his shoulder, his hair damp with sweat from practice. He looked exhausted.
"Hey," he said softly, dropping his stuff and kissing her cheek.
Athena didn't say anything for a moment. She just stared at the half-finished meal on the table.
"You missed dinner again," she finally said, standing slowly and walking to the kitchen. "Third night in a row."
Mason followed, frowning. "I know. I'm sorry, really. Coach—"
"I know," she cut him off, her voice tight. "Coach always needs more. Your team always needs more. But what about me, Mason? What about us?"
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly worn out. "I'm trying, Athena. You know I am."
"I know you say that," she said, voice trembling, "but I feel like I'm the only one showing up sometimes. We live together, and still, I feel like I'm dating your voicemail."
Silence settled between them like a weight.
Mason opened his mouth, but then closed it again, looking away.
Athena swallowed hard. "Are we just holding onto something because we're scared of letting go?"
That hit him. His shoulders sagged.
"No," he said finally, his voice quiet. "I still love you, Athena. But maybe I haven't been good at showing it lately."
Tears stung her eyes. "I love you too, but I don't want to come second to your entire world anymore."
Mason stepped forward, hesitating before taking her hands. "Then let's fix this. Tell me what you need from me—really."
Athena looked up at him, her heart heavy but hopeful.
"I need to feel like I matter again."
He nodded slowly, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"You do," he whispered against her hair. "And I'll spend every day making sure you never forget it again."
That night, they curled up on the couch together, eating reheated pasta in silence, but it was a start. A quiet promise that they wouldn't give up—even when the world pulled them in different directions.