Let Go
Dislcaimer: I don't own The O.C.
A/N: Just an idea. Because Navi Rawat sobbing made me sad.
She could fix him a feast of a breakfast, but he would just take a bite and walk out the door. She could give him a huge grin, but he would just flash his teeth for a split second. She could let him watch his choice of television shows that night, but he would just say he was tired.
She could try, but he would never be hers.
When Theresa was eight, she wanted more then anything to win the science fair. Ryan worked with her for weeks and weeks, but there was no way she was going to win. Ryan told her to hold on, but instead she didn't show up at the fair and let go.
In a way, it was funny. Now she's letting him go.
She tells herself it was stupid. He got out for a reason, didn't he?
She wakes up, rolls over, and the empty bed and cold blanket are a reminder that he's gone. He hasn't called once.
Theresa didn't think he would—he didn't when he left the first time—but maybe this time it would be different. Maybe this time he would really love her.
Love. She really thinks she loves him. She desperately wants him to love her in return. Not the type of love where you write, "I luv u soooo much," in a yearbook note, the type where you wait outside their house in the pouring rain and declare how much you need them.
Ryan understood her. He tried for her. He left her.
Leaving was as simple as loving. You just did it. Theresa understands that as easy as it is for her to fall right back in love with Ryan, he can just get up and go back to the Cohens, to his home.
This isn't his home. She can't keep him prisoner. She loves him just enough to let him walk out that door and know that her baby won't have a father, that she's going to be alone, that she will probably never see Ryan again.
Love allowed you to be a little selfish. As Ryan got into the cab to the airport, she muttered, "I love you enough to let you leave,"
He turned around, "What?"
She shook her head. It didn't matter.