The phrase hung in the air between Polina and Liam like a discarded garment, heavy with unspoken emotion. “The last shag,” she’d said, the words a little too bright, a touch too casual, as if she could scrub away the weight they carried. It had been in the aftermath of a lovemaking they both knew was different – tinged with melancholy, laced with the bitter sweetness of goodbye.

Polina traced the worn pattern on the duvet with her fingertip. Liam’s still, sleeping form beside her was an anchor pulling her deeper into the reality she'd been trying to outrun. They weren’t breaking up because of animosity or infidelity, but because life, in its infuriatingly unpredictable way, was pulling them apart. Liam had received a once-in-a-lifetime research opportunity in the Galapagos Islands, a dream he’d nurtured since childhood. And Polina, a burgeoning architect, couldn't drop her own carefully planned career trajectory in the heart of Prague.

For three years, they had been a constellation, each orbiting the other, existing in a comfortable, almost rhythmic dance. Their love was built not on grand gestures, but on quiet evenings spent cooking together, shared laughter that echoed in their small apartment, and the comforting warmth of their bodies intertwined. And, yes, it was also built on a passionate physical connection. The kind that made the world melt away, the kind that spoke volumes where words often failed.

That “last shag,” as they’d jokingly termed it, wasn't just about physical intimacy. It was a final punctuation mark on their shared life, a bittersweet acknowledgment of the beautiful, flawed, and deeply cherished connection they were about to dismantle. It was a goodbye whispered in the language of their bodies, laced with both longing and resignation.

Polina hadn’t expected to feel this hollow. She had planned for this. They both had. They’d had the long, tearful goodbye talks, the practical conversations about shipping Liam's belongings, and the promise to stay in touch. But the finality of it all, punctuated by that last shared moment, felt like an open wound.

Looking at Liam’s peaceful face, Polina felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t fair that their paths were diverging so drastically. Wasn't love supposed to conquer all? Why couldn't they mold their lives together, somehow? The questions swirled in her mind, unanswered and aching.

She quietly slipped out of bed, the cold air sending shivers down her spine. She made herself a cup of tea, watching the sunrise paint the Prague rooftops in hues of pink and gold. The world was moving on, vibrant and full of life, while her heart felt heavy and still.

Later that day, they went through the motions of a final, ordinary day together. They ate lunch at their favorite café, walked through their neighborhood park, and laughed at old inside jokes. They were both trying to keep the mood light, but the underlying sadness was palpable.

As Liam boarded the train, Polina forced a smile. “Write to me,” she’d said, and he’d promised he would. She watched until his figure disappeared into the distance, a tiny silhouette against the vastness of the station.

Back at their empty apartment, Polina felt the silence press in on her. The echo of that last moment together lingered, a powerful reminder of what they were losing. But with the grief, a flicker of hope emerged. Maybe, just maybe, their story wasn’t over. Maybe, like the constellations, they would find a way to exist in each other’s orbit, even from afar.

She knew she wouldn't forget; how could she? That “last shag” wasn't just a physical act. It was a symbol of a love that had been, a love that was, and a love that, in some form, might continue to be. For now, though, she would navigate the emptiness, letting the memory of their time together, both the mundane and the extraordinary, guide her forward. She would continue her own journey, carrying the echo of their love with her, until their paths might one day cross again.

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