The One That Got Away

The airport buzzed with life—people rushing to their gates, announcements crackling over the intercom, the smell of coffee and jet fuel lingering in the air. Emma adjusted the strap of her carry-on, trying to focus on her boarding pass, but her heart was hammering too loudly in her chest.

She hadn’t expected to see him here.

Liam stood just a few feet away, staring at the departures board. His dark green sweater—the one she used to steal—still fit him the same way, hugging his frame just enough. His hair was a little shorter than she remembered, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck when he was deep in thought hadn’t changed at all.

For a moment, she considered walking away. Avoiding him. Pretending she hadn’t noticed.

But then, as if sensing her presence, he turned.

Their eyes met.

His expression flickered with surprise, then something softer—nostalgia, maybe. Or regret.

“Emma,” he said, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the airport noise.

She swallowed, forcing a smile. “Liam.”

For a few agonizing seconds, they just stood there, caught in the strange space between the past and the present.

“Where are you headed?” he finally asked.

“Paris,” she said, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “And you?”

“Chicago.” He exhaled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Work.”

She nodded, not knowing what else to say.

It had been two years. Two years since they walked away from each other, thinking they had all the time in the world to fix what was broken. But life had other plans.

“You look good,” he said after a pause.

Emma let out a small laugh. “So do you.”

More silence. More unspoken words hanging between them.

Liam glanced at her ticket, then back at her. “Paris, huh? You always wanted to go.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I finally decided to just do it.”

A slow smile tugged at his lips. “I’m glad.”

Her flight number echoed over the speakers. Final boarding call.

This was it.

Emma hesitated, her fingers tightening around the handle of her suitcase. She wanted to say something, needed to say something.

Instead, Liam spoke first. “You know, I almost called you. A hundred times.”

Her breath caught. “Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “Maybe I was scared you’d moved on. Maybe I was scared you hadn’t.”

She wanted to tell him she had thought about him just as much. That she had drafted texts she never sent, wondered what might have been.

But it was too late. Wasn’t it?

Another announcement. The final, final call.

Emma inhaled sharply. “I have to go.”

Liam nodded, stepping back. “Yeah. Of course.”

But as she turned toward the gate, his voice stopped her.

“Emma.”

She turned.

“Have a great time in Paris,” he said softly.

She smiled, despite the ache in her chest. “Take care, Liam.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving behind the past—one gate at a time.