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It was a regular Tuesday night, and Claude probably—subconsciously—knew what was coming.
She had messaged him an hour earlier:
Finana: I have something important to talk about
Can I come over?
He messaged back a yeah.
Ten minutes later, she showed up at his apartment, wearing a faintly sad kind of smile.
She offered to make mac and cheese.
He argued that mac and cheese alone sucked.
She rolled her eyes and told him to make chicken and broccoli if he cared so much.
They busied themselves around the kitchen, bumping shoulders and bickering in that comfortable, familiar rhythm.
They chatted happily through dinner and naturally settled on the couch together like always.
As the evening settled into a soft lull, he heard Finana sigh.
She was picking at a small hole in the sleeve of her favorite hoodie, a black one she had stolen from him months ago. Then, she quietly sat up from where she had been leaning against his chest and turned to face him.
“Claude… we’ve talked about kids before. I said I want them eventually. And you said you’d never want ‘em…”
She looked at him with that resigned, yet ever so slightly hopeful gaze.
He knew this moment would come.
He should’ve seen it sooner—especially with how she lit up every time they met with their mutual friend’s new baby.
But the truth hadn’t changed.
He didn’t want kids. Not ever.
Not to mess them up, not to let them mess him up, not to shake the already fragile balance of his life.
He swallowed hard.
“Yeah... I don’t want kids.”
The words came out low, almost breathless.
She nodded knowingly and gave his hand a heartfelt squeeze.
“I think eventually is now, Claude,” she said with a tentative smile. “I want a baby before I’m a hag.”
He tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah,” she whispered back.
It sucked, because he loved her.
And she loved him, too.
Life’s about more than romantic love and logically he knew that, but it still sucked.
She nestled back against his chest.
He could feel her hair tickling his neck.
They lay quietly in the realization of the end. He heard her speak into the air, almost like she was asking the ceiling:
“Will we still be friends?”
“Yeah,” he answered, more confidently than he felt.
“Yeah,” she echoed, sounding relieved.
They stayed on the couch as long as they could, holding on to their last shared moment as they were.
Eventually, Finana stood, grabbed her coat, and gave him one last kiss.
She smiled that same sad smile and walked out.
He pretended not to notice the way she kept wiping her eyes as she disappeared into the distance.
That night, he went to bed and failed—miserably—to push down the feeling of loss in his chest.
They were friends before they dated.
He was determined they’d still be friends after.
But he needed space.
Time.
To cool the damn feelings down.
Finana probably needed the same.
So for months, they quietly resisted texting each other, stopped playing games together, and skipped mutual hangouts.
Every meme she would’ve laughed at…
Every game she would’ve loved…
Every meal she would’ve drooled over…
Felt like a stab straight to the heart.
But ever so slowly, the ache dulled.
A little over a year later, Finana finally broke the silence and messaged him:
Finana: I met someone
One year later
Finana married someone who wanted the same thing she did. He seemed like he’d make a great dad—easygoing, attentive, the kind of guy capable of carpool schedules and little league baseball games. He was great and Claude hated him just a little in the smallest corner of his heart.
Finana had the baby she always dreamed of.
And Claude could admit—the kid was cute.
Green-tinged hair, round apple cheeks, big curious eyes. A tiny version of Finana, but with a softness that made even Claude’s chest ache a little.
Claude eventually found someone too. He was kind and funny, able to match his pace.
The relationship was different… but good.
His and Finana’s friendship was still there—changed, a little strange, but solid.
Sometimes they’d hold hands when alone together. Nothing more. Never cheating. Never overstepping.
Just a connection that couldn’t exist the way it once did,
but also couldn’t be severed completely.