The Last Breath

The breeze brushed against Sarah’s skin as she stood on the balcony, a soft sigh of wind that carried with it the remnants of a long, difficult day. She closed her eyes, taking in the moment, letting the cool air wash over her as the city hummed beneath her feet. It had been a week of meetings, emails, and deadlines that seemed never-ending. But now, in this quiet moment, she could breathe.

It was a fleeting kind of peace—one she rarely allowed herself. For Sarah, life had become a series of tasks to accomplish, a checklist that never seemed to shrink. As the head of a fast-paced corporate department, there was always something urgent to attend to, always someone else to please, always the expectation to be "better, faster, more." Somewhere along the way, she had lost touch with the simple act of living. In its place, there was only surviving.

A notification pinged on her phone, pulling her back to reality. It was a message from her friend Kate: “Can we meet tomorrow? I need to talk.”

The lump in Sarah’s throat tightened. She had been avoiding Kate’s calls for weeks now. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about her friend. It was just that every time Kate reached out, Sarah felt this deep discomfort, this feeling of being trapped in a conversation she didn’t know how to have. Kate’s condition had worsened, and Sarah didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know how to face it. It was easier to hide, to keep pushing forward in her own life, pretending she wasn’t slipping further away from everything that truly mattered.

But the message sat there, unresolved. "I’ll be there," she typed back, before even thinking.

The next day, Sarah arrived at the café early, the weight of guilt heavy on her chest. She spotted Kate almost immediately. But as she walked toward her, something felt... off. Kate looked thinner, frailer, the vibrant energy that Sarah had always admired replaced by a weariness that seemed to come from a place far deeper than physical illness.

"Hey," Sarah said, forcing a smile as she took a seat.

Kate smiled back, but there was something different about it—something empty. "I’m glad you came," she said softly. "I’ve been meaning to tell you something."

Sarah tried to push away the rising discomfort in her chest. She needed to be strong, for Kate. But as she looked into Kate’s eyes, she saw a reflection that frightened her. There was no longer the hope or the fight that had once been there. It was as if Kate had given up, but in a way that Sarah couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t face.

“You know,” Kate began, “I don’t know how much time I have left. The doctors say I’m in the final stages. But... that’s not really what I wanted to talk about.” She paused, letting the words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken truths.

Sarah’s heart began to pound in her chest, the guilt and confusion washing over her like a wave. She knew exactly what Kate was about to say, and she wasn’t ready to hear it.

"I want to tell you something, Sarah," Kate continued. "I want you to really listen." There was a rawness in her voice that cut through the air. "I want you to live."

Sarah felt her breath catch. "I’m living," she replied automatically, the words slipping out before she could think. “I have a job. I have... things to do.”

Kate’s eyes softened, a sadness settling over them. “You’ve been so caught up in everything around you, Sarah. You’ve forgotten who you are. You’ve forgotten what it means to truly live.” Her voice trembled. "You’re hiding behind your work, behind your responsibilities, and it’s eating you alive. You can’t keep running from yourself."

It was as if Kate was reading her mind, pulling out all the thoughts that Sarah had buried deep down. But Sarah couldn’t bear to look at it, couldn’t bear to acknowledge it. She wasn’t ready.

"Please, Sarah," Kate’s voice cracked. "Don’t wait until it’s too late. Live for yourself. Stop hiding behind the mask of being ‘busy.’ That’s all it is—a mask."

Sarah felt the weight of Kate’s words pressing down on her, but she couldn’t respond. The truth felt like a foreign language to her. She didn’t know how to be herself anymore. Who was Sarah, really? What did it mean to live, when all she’d ever known was to work, to perform, to do?

Weeks passed, and Sarah tried—she tried so hard to move forward, to live the life Kate had implored her to live. She took small steps—an evening walk after work, lunch with an old friend she hadn’t seen in years, a weekend trip to the countryside. But each step felt like a futile attempt to escape the truth. The more she tried, the more she felt herself retreating into the same old routine, the same old pressures, the same old distractions.

Then, one evening as she stood on her balcony and the breeze curled around her, Sarah felt something shift in the air—something she couldn’t quite place, like a whisper just beyond the edge of her hearing. She turned, feeling the weight of the moment settle over her, and for the first time in years, her gaze fell not on the city below, but on her own reflection in the glass.

It was a fleeting thing—her reflection flickered in and out, distorted by the soft, cool air—but it was enough to make her stop. Her own face, so familiar, looked different somehow, distant and foreign. In the haze of her reflection, a shadow passed—no, not a shadow, but something more—a flicker of a smile, a glimmer in the eyes she couldn’t remember seeing before. The eyes… those weren’t hers. They were the eyes of someone else. Someone who knew more, who felt more, who wasn’t hiding.

Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. She blinked, but the image didn’t go away. It hung there, suspended between the glass and her own tired gaze, as if waiting for her to understand.

That smile—it was the same one Kate had worn. The same one Sarah had always tried to ignore, thinking it was nothing but a sad reminder. But now, it was here, staring back at her from the depths of her own reflection.

Kate? The thought shot through her like an electric shock.

But no, it wasn’t Kate. It was Sarah. The part of Sarah she had buried so deep that even she had forgotten it existed. The one who believed in something beyond the grind, beyond the walls of the corporate office, beyond the ceaseless need to achieve. The part of her that had once looked at the world with curiosity, with wonder, with the quiet certainty that life was meant to be lived—not just endured.

The breeze whispered again, curling around her face as if coaxing her to listen. Sarah’s reflection seemed to nod, a knowing look crossing her features, and for a brief second, the face in the glass wasn't just hers anymore. It was Kate’s, or rather, it was the part of herself she had buried under deadlines, ambition, and numbing distractions. Kate had never been a separate person—she had always been Sarah’s own unspoken voice, the one she had silenced for so long.

And just as quickly as the moment came, it was gone. The reflection returned to normal, her face looking just as it always had. But something had shifted—something inside Sarah, some barrier, some defense mechanism that had kept her from seeing herself clearly, had finally cracked open.

As she stared out at the darkened city, the truth lingered, subtle but undeniable: Kate wasn’t gone. She had never been gone. Kate had been Sarah all along, the part of her that had lived with hope, with emotion, with the dream of a life not ruled by expectations.

The breeze, now more insistent, tugged at her hair, and Sarah felt it in the pit of her stomach—a quiet decision, the first real choice she had made in years. She didn’t speak the words out loud, but they came to her, as clear as the night itself.