After a few more days of avoiding Val's questions and barely keeping myself from answering more of Andrew's texts, I finally forced myself to leave Brooklyn and the familiar stretch I'd been haunting exclusively for the past six months - my apartment, work, and Prospect Park - in favor of Manhattan. I felt like I was suffocating, like the weight of life was pressing against my ribcage and - with every single second - the pain increased tenfold.

The bitter November wind nipped at my cheeks, so I stuffed my hands into my pockets and pulled my jacket closer. Within a few minutes of walking, my nose and cheeks were already turned cherry red. I'd left my hair down to protect my ears, but the wind turned it into a tangled mess of curls with every step.

Cutting across the street, I turned right to walk into Riverside Park on the Upper West Side off 72nd Street. The four-mile stretch of park was squeezed between the Hudson River and Riverside Drive, and - while it wasn't the park all the tourists visited in New York - I absolutely loved it. It was one of the prettiest parks in New York City, especially considering it wasn't always swarmed with tourists, and I liked that I could walk in a straight line up the greenway without worrying about where I was going. I could shut off my brain, enjoying everything around me, and just...exist.

At the front of the park, right at the corner of Riverside and 72nd, there was a statue of Eleanor Roosevelt that I loved. Perched on a boulder, the bronze statue showed the former First Lady deep in thought. The woman was one of my heroes.

She was always outspoken, firmly believing that a woman didn't need to be meek, and - while her husband Franklin Delano Roosevelt would always been remembered for his presidency - Eleanor was certainly memorable in her own way. She fought for women's rights, social reform, and human rights. I learned in my freshman year at college that she was a United Nations delegate and one of the most avid supporters of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the first global agreement on human rights that formed a baseline of countless international laws, and - ever since - I'd started collecting her books.

One of her quotes floated into my head as I stared at the monument.

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face," she once said. "You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.'"

I knew she was right. I knew that there had to be a solution, but my fear kept me from thinking rationally. All I could think about was the potential for destruction - not in my own life, but for others - and I wanted to do everything possible to keep that from happening.

Regardless, I couldn't keep doing what I've been doing. I couldn't drink to hide my problems, no matter how much I craved the way it numbed my pain and helped me forget everything, because I needed to face them. I needed to get my life in check, whether or not I was able to fix this mess, because I couldn't afford to lose everything I'd worked so hard to gain. My job, my future...it's time to get my shit together. Life isn't lived by hiding away from the world, it demands facing your fears with determination to get back up once you fall down. You can't always win, but you can always try again.

Taking a deep breath, I brushed away a tear as it rolled down my cheek. I was done wallowing. I was done self-destructing.

I wanted to be a better person, so I needed to start now.

My fingers shook from both the cold and emotion as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, debating whether or not I should call my sister Adriana. I hadn't talked to her in months, but now I wondered if it might be a good idea for me to reach out. Everything that had happened drained me, both emotionally and physically, and it might be time for me to take a break from New York. The holidays were approaching rapidly, and although I made no plans to go home, it was better late than never, right?

"Cait?"

A voice called my name, and I turned toward the sound to see Andrew approach me. He wore his familiar leather jacket over a gray shirt, his hands tucked into the pockets as he approached me, and I froze at the sight of him. I didn't know what to do or say to him, especially considering I'd gone months ignoring his texts, but my instincts screamed at me to run.

Instead, I rooted myself to the spot and forced a friendly smile on my face.

"Hi," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. Scolding myself inwardly, I cleared my throat and added, "What brings you here?"

He stopped in front of me, motioning toward the southeast, "I had an event at the Lincoln Center that ended earlier than expected. Thought I'd go for a walk, clear my head."

"That bad?" I teased awkwardly.

"No," Andrew shook his head. "The event was fine, I just...um...life's been tough lately."

Frowning, I nodded. I definitely understood that. I wanted to apologize, but I wasn't sure how to speak the words without unloading everything on him. Instead, I stayed silent.

A jogger passed us on the trail, and Andrew instinctively placed a hand on my arm to guide me to the side. My stomach twisted in nervous knots at the sensation, and I took a step away from him without realizing it. I needed a safe distance between us, especially now, so I stared at the ground to avoid his clear blue-green gaze.

"Are you okay?"

His voice was soft, and I looked up to see him lift a hand toward me before dropping it back by his side. Everything screamed in me to tell him no, I was definitely not okay, and I hadn't been okay in a long time.

I shook my head, "I'm fine."

"Cait," he breathed. "Whatever is going on, you can tell me. I just want to help."

"I'm okay," I lied to him, forcing another fake smile. I'd become an expert at masking my emotions behind a mask of complacency, even though - underneath - I was bleeding out.

He looked doubtful, "You know I'm always here if you need me. We haven't known each other for very long, but..."

"Andrew," I cut him off. "I'm sorry, it's..." My mouth fumbled over the words, "I can't do this. I want to...trust me, I do, but y-you're with someone. I don't want to be that girl."

"What girl, Cait?" Andrew frowned. "You're my friend, and if Danielle has a problem with that then she can deal with it. We're not doing anything wrong."

I sighed, "So she knows about the text messages then?"

The second I said the words, I wished I could take them back. I loved the fact that he still texted me every day, and I was terrified it would stop. I wasn't ready to cut ties with him, to let him drift out of my life, no matter how painful it was to keep him there. I sounded bitter and angry, and I knew I was treading a very thin line.

"If you want me to stop, I'll stop," he said after a moment of hesitation. "I just..."

Andrew took a deep breath, and I could see the pain in his eyes. He didn't understand why I was treating him this way, and I didn't blame him. Everything was going so well, we were talking about our next date, and - against my better judgement - I actually thought we might have a future together. Then, out of the blue, I pulled away. I left him without any sort of explanation, something I knew he deserved but I couldn't give.

"I couldn't--"

"Andrew, I--"

We spoke at the same time, stopping instantly. If my cheeks weren't already cherry red from the cold, he could've seen the blush burning across my face. I gestured for him to go ahead, tucking my hands back into my pocket immediately after exposure to the cold afternoon air.

"If I'm completely honest," he began slowly. "I didn't want to let go. And I realize that's not fair to you, but..."

His voice trailed, and I frowned, "It's not fair to Danielle. Your girlfriend."

"Yeah," Andrew agreed. "You're absolutely right. And I would never...I'm not...I wasn't trying..."

"I know," I replied quietly.

I knew a thing or two about clinging to the past, especially to things I didn't understand. Andrew was hoping for some sort of answer or resolution, to know why I pushed him away so suddenly, and he didn't want to accept the reality that we don't always get closure in life. Sometimes things happen that don't make sense, like my mother's death, and we don't get the answers we think we deserve. It's not fair and it's certainly not easy to deal with, but - if you don't learn to let go - it will seep into every area of your life.

The fact was, I didn't want to walk away from him. I didn't want to stop talking to him, to stop seeing him, but I didn't have a choice. How could I explain that to him? How could I tell him that he was right in thinking there was something between us, that there was something still between us?

I wasn't giving up on myself anymore. I wasn't going to descend further into the darkness, but I had to make a choice to proactively change my situation. I couldn't do that while clinging to Andrew, hoping that some magic solution would fall into my lap and make everything right.

Everything may have fallen to pieces over the past few months, but - standing there with the remnants of my broken heart in my hands - I was determined to put it all back together again.

Blinking away tears, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The sounds of the city permeated the air between us, filling the space with sound, and I couldn't help but feel like there was a massive gulf between us. I wanted to say so much more, to do whatever I could to fill the distance, but there were two words caught in my throat that prevented me from doing anything else. Two words that pried open the wounds in my heart and opened the floodgates I'd built to keep my pain at bay.

"Goodbye, Andrew."