Outside the hospital, the wind slashed through the trees like whispers too embarrassed to speak aloud. The street lamps flickered at slow intervals. Everything else was still, except for Adex's fingers, which were anxious and twitchy as they traced the edge of a cigarette box. He lit one with trembling hands, shielding the flame with his palm as if the wind could steal even that small spark from him.
Jill stood beside him, arms crossed over her chest, her hospital wristband still dangling from her sleeve as a reminder of where she had just come from. The night air had grown colder.
"I didn't know you smoked," she said quietly.
Adex didn't look at her. He inhaled the cigarette, his eyes lost in the darkness beyond the parking lot. "I had to."
She waited. When Adex didn't say more, she added, "Because of everything that's happened today?"
He exhaled a slow trail of smoke, not bothering to conceal the wear on his face. "My head's a mess."
There was a tight moment, pulsating with unspoken words.
"Sorry for all the trouble," Jill offered.
"Forget it," Adex muttered. He pressed his jaw tight, forcing the smoke out through his nose. "That thing mentioned Ben—we need to act fast."
But Jill didn't move. Her eyes locked on him like they were searching for something beyond his words. "Adex—" she began.
He finally turned to her.
"What?"
She hesitated. Her voice came low, almost shy. "Earlier... when I was in there, I remembered I told you about Ben, but—
"No," he cut in. "Don't do that. Don't act like this is some open-hearted moment between us." He paced a few steps forward, cigarette trailing smoke like a fuse. "Do you know how long I've been talking to you? How many damn nights I've sat wondering if I was crazy for caring this much? And now—now—you tell me that the guy you used to feel something for happens to be Ben? My best friend?"
Jill's arms dropped to her sides. "Adex, I didn't mean it like that. I'm telling you now because I thought—"
Adex cut in again, his voice sharp with anger, his face tense. "What else do you wanna tell me?" he shouted. He blinked once, then twice, and let out a dry, bitter laugh—cold and empty. "You had feelings for Ben?" he said, his voice climbing.
"Adex, I didn't say all this to hurt you," she said, her voice unsteady, slipping into a defensive tone. "I didn't even remember anything about Ben until today."
He turned, his face reddened, and his jaw tightened. "But you remembered him before remembering me. That's what hurts.
Jill stared at the ground, too ashamed to meet his eyes. "You're turning this into something else, Adex."
"No, Jill. I'm finally seeing it for what it is." He took another drag and looked at her through the rising smoke. "I've been pouring myself out to you. Giving you the best of what I've got left.
"That's not fair."
"Fair?" he spat the word. "What do you want me to say? To tell you that everything's fine? That it doesn't rip something out of me every time you look at me like I'm just another person passing through your disaster?"
"Don't forget I found you kissing some other girl in an empty lecture room while I was out looking for you," Jill said, her voice rising with anger.
"There she goes again. Did you even bother to ask me who it was?" Adex said.
"I don't care who you were kissing that day," Jill replied. "It just hurts more than I can forget."
She went quiet after that, blinking fast as tears threatened to fall—but she wouldn't let them.
"You think I asked for any of this?" She said her voice was trembling. "Do you think I wanted to be pregnant with something I don't understand? To be hunted, shattered, confused—and now despised by you?
"I don't hate you," he muttered with tight teeth. "But damn it, Jill; I thought we had something wonderful in the past. Even if you couldn't express it, I assumed you felt it too."
Her expression twisted. "And I do. But it's not that simple."
"No," he said, flicking the ash from the cigarette. "It's never that simple with you."
A long silence cracked between them. Jill's voice came smaller now. "Is that why you're smoking? To clear your head?"
He turned to Jill slowly, something hollow growing behind his eyes. "I'm smoking, because I don't wanna say something worse. So, I don't scream in this parking lot like a lunatic who cared too much for someone who was never really his."
Then, without a word, he dropped the cigarette, ground it out beneath his shoe, and walked to the car.
Jill's voice chased him. "Adex, wait—don't leave like this."
He didn't turn.
"Please, wait."
He opened the car door, got into his seat, and slammed it shut. As the engine started, the headlights shone through the shadows. Jill hurried forward, hands up.
"Adex—don't do this!"
But the car pulled out fast, tires scraping faintly against the concrete. He didn't look back.
Jill stood in the beam of the headlights, watching his figure disappear down the street. Her heart sank deep in her chest. She didn't cry. And for the first time, she wondered if she'd just lost something that had quietly meant everything to her.