Chapter 14: Goodbye, Savannah Sunrise

Chapter Fourteen

Later, Derek and Lauren broke up. I don’t know why.

An old classmate DM’d me: "He’s not himself." Others speculated, but I didn’t ask.

Not long after, Lauren transferred to another class. Derek seemed to become a different person. He stopped hanging out with his old friends and started following me everywhere.

He lingered by my locker, waited for me after class, brought me coffee in the mornings. It was like he was trying to turn back time, but I wouldn’t let him. His coach benched him for missing practice; a teacher urged him to see the counselor.

Every morning he bought me my favorite breakfast, at lunch he helped me get the best dishes, after school he carefully followed me home, saying he wanted to protect me.

He was attentive, almost desperate. My friends teased me, but I just shook my head—he was too late.

It was like we were back in elementary school. No, he was even better to me than before.

He tried too hard, always watching, always waiting for a sign I’d forgive him. It never came.

I asked him what he was doing. He shook his head, just looked at me with sad eyes.

He never had an answer. I think he just wanted to feel less alone.

In the end, he said he just wanted to make it up to me and take care of me.

His words were soft, but I couldn’t trust them. I’d moved on.

To be honest, I couldn’t get rid of him—no one could talk sense into him—it was really annoying.

My friends joked that he was like a lost puppy. I just rolled my eyes and tried to ignore him.

Just then, my parents’ company planned to transfer them, coincidentally to my mother’s hometown, Savannah.

It felt like fate—a chance to start over somewhere new. I welcomed the change, ready to leave the past behind.

We decided that before my senior year, I would transfer, and the whole family would move to Savannah.

Spanish moss draped over oak trees, Forsyth Park fountains shimmered in the heat, and summer humidity wrapped the city like a blanket. I packed my room in silence, tossing the last of Derek’s gifts into a box for Goodwill.

I didn’t tell anyone in advance, just sent a few close classmates a message to say goodbye on the weekend.

I wanted to leave quietly, without drama. My friends promised to visit, but I knew we’d drift apart.

Derek was the last to know. I don’t know how he did it, but on the day I left, he chased after our car for a long, long time.

We pulled out of the driveway at dawn. I watched in the rearview mirror as he sprinted down the block, shouting my name.

I sat in the front passenger seat, quietly watching the rearview mirror.

My dad squeezed my hand, my mom dabbed at her eyes. I didn’t cry—I just watched Derek get smaller and smaller.

Watching him run with all his strength, reaching out as if saying something.

He stumbled once, but kept going, arms pumping, mouth open in a silent plea. I bit my lip, fighting the urge to turn around.

Watching his heart-wrenching tears and pale face.

I saw the pain etched in every line of his face. For a moment, I almost relented. Almost.

"Don’t go! Please... don’t go! I haven’t yet..."

His voice faded in the wind, carried away before it reached me. I closed my eyes, letting the past slip away.

"Natalie! I..."

The words never came. Our car turned the corner, and he disappeared from view.

The wind was too strong, blowing away his last words.

All I heard was the hum of the tires on the road, my parents’ quiet sniffles, and the rush of my own heartbeat.

In the end, the figure who had accompanied me for years slowly fell, stood up, stumbled, and grew smaller.

He shrank in the distance, a shadow fading into memory. I wiped my eyes, determined not to cry.

Smaller, smaller, until he was just a blurry black dot.

I watched until he was gone, until there was nothing left but sky and trees.

Then, he disappeared.

Just like that—gone. I leaned back, letting the new future wash over me.

Later, I occasionally heard about Derek from old classmates.

A cousin texted me he’d buried himself in study; another said he dated too many girls. A former teammate told me he seemed depressed and withdrawn.

Some said he was depressed and withdrawn. Some said he gave up on himself and dated countless girls. Others said he completely changed, burying himself in study, as if he’d set his sights on a top university.

The rumors didn’t matter. He was gone, and so was that part of my life.

I didn’t care anymore. After the SATs, I went to a university in a coastal city, looking forward to my future.

Move-in bins clogged the dorm hallways, the RA handed out welcome packets, and I stood in the campus coffee line clutching a new planner. The world felt bigger, brighter, full of possibility.

Coincidentally, Caleb was at the same school. When he saw me, he started pursuing me enthusiastically.

He showed up at my dorm with coffee and bagels, asked before he hugged me, stepped back when I bristled, dragged me to late-night study sessions, and cheered me on at intramural basketball games. I let myself fall for him, slowly, carefully.

For the first two years of college, every year on my birthday, there was an anonymous package—sometimes a handmade doll I’d mentioned once on Instagram, sometimes a piece of clothing I wanted but never bought.

One was a strawberry milk charm on a silver chain that made my throat tighten. The gifts piled up in the corner of my room, unopened. I knew who they were from, but I never reached out.

I accepted them all, but never used them, just piled them in the corner of my dorm.

My roommates teased me, but I just shrugged. They were relics of a life I’d left behind.

Until my junior year, I accepted Caleb’s pursuit, and at my boyfriend’s insistence, announced it on social media.

We posted a photo—smiling, arms around each other, happy. The likes and comments poured in. I felt truly free for the first time.

The annual gifts stopped.

I noticed, but didn’t dwell on it. It was a clean break—no more reminders, no more regrets.

That’s just right. It should have stopped long ago.

I packed up the last of the unopened boxes, gave them away or tossed them out. The past was over, and I was ready to move on.

This is the end.

On my way to class, I bought strawberry milk for myself from the campus store, the carton sweating in my hand. The sun rose over the city, painting the world in gold. I stepped into the morning, ready for whatever came next.