I hadn't fallen asleep with any of the women I'd slept with since leaving the States, but it had felt natural to do so with Nami. Her body fit perfectly against mine, back against my chest, head tucked under my chin. I'd wanted to stay awake all night, knowing that I wouldn't have this chance again, but the lack of sleep the previous night and a busy day were a strong combination and I hadn't been able to resist. It was a deep, dreamless sleep and when I started to gradually wake it was that slow, thick waking, the kind that felt like swimming through molasses.

The first thing I knew was that she was no longer in bed with me. Her body heat was gone, but I could hear her moving around. I kept my eyes closed until I heard a door close. I opened my eyes and saw that she'd gone into the bathroom. I rolled onto my side, unsure of what I should do.

Would it be better to let her know I was up? Should I actually get up and dress so I could walk her to the door? Or would it be better to stay in the bed and say good-bye from here? That felt crass. But what would I say when she walked out of the bathroom? A simple 'good morning' felt trite, but I didn't think it'd be fair to expect anything else.

I didn't know how to do this. How to say good-bye. The other women I'd slept with had either left when we were done, or I'd been the one leaving. There hadn't been cuddling, sleeping, lingering. There'd been no expectations and no hard feelings. Before everything had gone to hell back home, I'd dated, but in those instances, the morning after good-byes hadn't been weird because I'd known I'd be seeing them again. With Nami, that wasn't the case. I had no clue what was appropriate.

I had another problem with not knowing what to say. It was less about appropriate and more about not being able to find the right words to either tell her what I felt or to hide it. Would it be fair to tell her that I didn't want her to go? Would she think it was a ploy, just me saying it to make what we'd done feel less like a hook-up?

And if she believed I was telling the truth, what then? It wouldn't change anything. Before she'd told me the truth, I might've thought she could do what I'd done and break away, but I knew now that wasn't a possibility. A family business was one thing. A kingdom was another. And telling her that I wanted to see her again would just be cruel to both of us. We both knew it wasn’t going to happen.

The other option was just as unappealing. If I walked her to the door or stayed in bed, only telling her good-bye and that it had been fun, would she think I didn't care? Would she believe this entire thing had only a mere blip on my radar? Her words to me echoed in my mind. She said she would never forget me. I felt the same way. No matter where I went from here, I'd never forget her and the short time we had together.

I was torn, neither choice giving me anything to work with. Unless, the thought came to me, I didn't let her know I was awake at all. If she wanted to talk to me, she could wake me up. In that case, I could let her speak first and base my response on her words. And if she didn't, it would've been her choice not to say good-bye.

The doorknob turned and I made my decision. I closed my eyes and kept my breathing even. I heard her walking, then nothing for a minute or two. I risked opening my eyes a sliver. She was still here, standing at the desk and frowning at a piece of paper. As I watched, she wrote a few lines and set down the pen. I quickly closed my eyes and a moment later, I was glad I had. I felt more than heard her coming towards me and stop next to the bed.

The light brush of her lips against my forehead almost made me lose my resolve and then I felt a drip of liquid on my skin. My stomach twisted. She was crying. It took all of my self-control not to jump up and go to her. I hated knowing that I'd been the cause of her tears and the thought of her in pain made my own heart ache.

Dammit!

When I heard the main door close, I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Had this been a bad idea? Should I have walked away at the club? Not gotten on the train? Not suggested we leave together? I'd had a dozen points where I could've walked away and I hadn't used any of them. Who knew how different things would've been if I'd done the smart thing. It seemed like all I did lately was second-guess my decisions.

I sat up. It didn't matter now. I made my choices and, for better or for worse, I had to live with the consequences. Unfortunately, one of those seemed to be a deeper attachment than I'd ever meant to have.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, ready to head into the bathroom for a long, hot shower. That's when I saw it. There was a folded piece of paper sitting on the table next to the bed. I didn't want to read it, but I picked it up anyway. It was brief and I read it three times before the words sunk in.

She planned to move on and she wanted me to do the same. She wished me all the best. I wished her the same. I just wished it could've been with me. She was right, and I hated it. We had to move past this. It was the best thing for everyone involved.

She'd go back to her family and her country. Marry whoever her parents had chosen for her. Become a mother and a queen. I'd finish my trip and figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life. We both might look back on these couple days fondly, but that's all they would be. Memories.

I ran my hand through my hair as I stood. It was time to let go. Time to do as she'd said and move on. Still, a part of me said to go after her, to tell her that we owed it to ourselves to see where this could go. I silenced the voice as I walked into the bathroom. Shower, then eat. After that, I’d move on with the rest of my life. Our time was up.