A/N: Short fic about Isabella looking over the last few moments of her relationship and she realizes that she must let go.
The black-haired girl slowly rises from the bed. The room is silent except for the soft snoring coming from the man laying beside her. His short red locks brushes against the pillow as he remains unaware of the girl's stare on his back.
They had been growing apart for awhile now. First it was just the introduction of formalities creeping slowly into their conversations, hardly noticeable. When speaking to one another, they called each other by their name, no longer the nicknames or just not at all.
They got caught up in the other things outside of their relationship - friends, work, school. They thought they could manage their lives while still finding time for each. But soon that too died out, the scheduled dates also becoming just a formality.
Eventually, they no longer sat at the same tables for meals. They avoided each other, whether purposely or not, making sure never having to stay in the same room for too long. Their awkward conversations were soon avoided all together.
They spoke no more.
The girl continues to stare at the man beside her. She wishes he'd say something, anything, to help fix them, to piece them back together. Her heart is in tatters, barely kept together by fraying threads. He was her first love, her only love, for fourteen years. She had waited so long and finally had him but she now was losing him. She would do anything for him, even before he asked. He didn't know just how much he meant to her, although she tried to show it every day before their relationship got strained.
She swallows hard, her chest starting to ache. The threads would no longer hold. After trying for so hard, the feeling of being completely broken overshadows her. It suffocates her and she subconsciously grabs at her throat. She doesn't want to let go. She doesn't want to realize that their bond had already been broken from the first time she noticed the cute nicknames and love messages disappeared. But the pain she feels tells her that this is the truth.
She climbs out of the bed, the tears finally falling as she walks out of the room. Before entering the hall, she looks back at him. He is now facing her, his eyes opened, watching her drift out, watching her leave him, watching her let go.
Usually so talkative, but now so silent. The air feels stale in the room. Holding her hand over her heart, she mouths the words not wanting them to float above them, increasing the pressure, "say something..."