53 | hardest goodbye

HARDEST GOODBYE

🪩

The first rays of soft California sunlight spilled through the thin curtains, painting golden lines across Diana's bedroom. The city outside was already stirring — faint traffic hums, the faraway whistle of someone walking their dog — but inside, everything was still, quiet, and comfortably warm.

Diana lay there for a moment, eyes fluttering open to the sound of slow, even breathing beside her. Malachi's arm was draped lazily over her waist, his chest rising and falling behind her in a steady rhythm. He was fast asleep — peaceful, unaware, that kind of deep, unbothered sleep that always made her smile.

He had practically been living at her apartment for the past week. Ever since the New Year, he'd just... sort of stayed. First one night, then two, then all of them. They both knew it was because she was gonna be leaving soon, but neither wanted to say it out loud.

His stuff was scattered around — a hoodie thrown on her couch, his phone charger permanently plugged in by her bed, a bottle of his cologne sitting next to her perfume on the dresser. It didn't feel invasive. It felt right. Natural. Like he belonged there.

Diana let herself take in the quiet moment. The faint scent of him — something like cedar and the detergent he always used — mixed with her vanilla candle. Her heart tugged a little. Today was the first day of tour. The first show. The start of a whole new whirlwind.

She turned carefully in his hold, her eyes tracing over his face in the soft morning light. He looked so unguarded when he slept, curls messy and lashes brushing his cheekbones. One of his hands rested loosely against her hip, and she smiled faintly before whispering, "I'm gonna miss you," under her breath.

She pressed a small kiss to his shoulder before slipping out of bed. The cool floor met her feet as she padded quietly to the bathroom.

Steam fogged the mirror as she finished her shower, the warm water chasing away her nerves for the day. The DWTS Live Tour. She still couldn't believe it was happening — that she was actually about to go perform in theaters across the country with her friends and idols.

She pulled on a pair of loose gray sweatpants and a white cropped tank, towel-drying her damp hair as she leaned over the sink. Her makeup was minimal — just enough to look awake — and she applied her mascara carefully, the kind of practiced precision that came from years of early call times and quick rehearsals.

When she stepped back into the bedroom, soft morning light had flooded the space completely. Malachi was awake now, sitting up in her bed with his phone in one hand and his other arm resting behind him. His curls were a mess — endearingly so — and his voice came out sleep-rough when he said, with a little grin, "Morning, tiny dancer."

Diana laughed quietly. "Morning."

He looked her up and down, eyes lingering playfully on her damp hair and casual outfit. "You heading out now?"

"Yeah," she nodded, tying her hair into a loose braid as she walked over to her dresser. "We've got one final rehearsal before the show tonight. Call time's in like an hour."

He put his phone aside, watching her move around the room. "You excited?"

She gave him a look over her shoulder. "Excited, nervous, trying not to throw up — all of the above."

He chuckled softly. "You're gonna kill it. You always do."

That made her pause, her heart tugging again in that way it always did when he said things like that. She crossed over to him, leaning in slightly to press a kiss to his forehead. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Don't thank me for telling the truth," he teased.

Diana rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. She leaned down again, this time brushing a quick kiss against his lips. "Okay, I gotta go," she said quietly, straightening up.

But before she could take a step back, his hand slid to her waist — gentle, but insistent — and pulled her back down toward him. She stumbled slightly, laughing as she landed against his chest.

"Malachi," she said through a laugh, palms braced on either side of him, "I have to go."

"I know," he murmured, that half-smile still curving at his mouth. "Just... one more."

She hesitated for a heartbeat — and then he leaned in, catching her lips again. This time it wasn't a quick peck; it was soft and deep and unhurried. A kiss that felt like a moment suspended in time, like he was memorizing her before she left.

Diana's breath hitched slightly, her hands curling into his t-shirt. When he finally pulled back, she could still feel the warmth of his lips.

She exhaled, laughing quietly. "You're impossible."

"Maybe," he said with a grin. "But admit it, you'll miss me."

She tilted her head, feigning thought. "Hmm. Maybe a little."

He laughed — that easy, bright laugh that always got to her — and reached up to tuck a  stray piece of hair behind her ear. "You're gonna do amazing tonight," he said softly. "I'll be there, front row."

That made her grin widen. "Front row, huh?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Her chest warmed at that, and she leaned in again, brushing her lips over his once more — a fleeting goodbye kiss this time. "Okay," she whispered. "I seriously need to go before I'm late."

He nodded, eyes soft as he watched her straighten up and grab her dance bag. "I'll lock up after I leave."

"Thank you," she said, adjusting the strap over her shoulder.

"Hey," he said as she turned toward the door.

She paused. "Yeah?"

"I love you," he said — quietly, simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She smiled, heart swelling in her chest. "I love you too," she said softly.

And with that, she was gone — door closing gently behind her, her footsteps fading down the hall.

Malachi leaned back against her pillows, staring at the ceiling for a moment before grinning to himself. The tour was starting. Her tour. He couldn't wait to see her on that stage tonight — doing what she was born to do.

But God he was gonna miss her.

The roar of the crowd was already echoing faintly from the other side of the curtain, a low hum of anticipation that vibrated through the floorboards and into Diana's chest.

She stood backstage in her first costume, heart pounding, adrenaline buzzing through her veins like electricity. Around her, there was the organized chaos of the tour crew — pros stretching, checking their hair, doing last-minute pep talks, stagehands running by with headsets and clipboards. The smell of hairspray and stage lights mixed with the faint sweetness of someone's perfume.

This was it.

The first show of the tour.

Los Angeles.

Diana bounced lightly on her toes, grinning as Brandon jogged up beside her in his sleek opening outfit. "Ready for this?" he asked, flashing his familiar confident smile.

"As I'll ever be," she said, shaking her hands out, trying to release some of the energy coursing through her body.

He nudged her shoulder. "We've got this. We've been killing it in rehearsals."

"I just want to have fun tonight," she admitted, eyes glinting. "No judges, no elimination, no stress. Just dancing."

"That's the spirit."

The stage manager's voice cut through the backstage chatter. "Alright everyone, we're five out! Let's get places!"

The dancers cheered, a few whoops and whistles echoing as they scattered into formation.

Diana took a deep breath, closing her eyes for just a moment. The air felt thick with excitement. She could feel her heart racing, but not from fear — from pure exhilaration.

When the opening notes hit and the lights flooded the stage, it was like stepping into another world.

From the moment she took that first step out under the spotlights, the audience's energy wrapped around her like a wave. The cheers, the applause, the glittering lights — all of it washed away any trace of nerves she'd had.

Her tango with Brandon was next, and it was electric. The music pulsed through her bones, every movement sharp and controlled. Brandon's hand found hers, their footwork perfectly in sync, weeks of practice between them manifesting in that effortless chemistry that drew the audience in.

Diana could feel the heat of the lights, the rhythm of the music matching her heartbeat, the way the crowd gasped as they hit the final pose — her body hovering over the floor dramatically, Brandon's arm strong around her waist.

Applause thundered.

She straightened, breathless, a wide smile breaking over her face as she and Brandon exchanged a triumphant look.

"Crushed it," he whispered as they exited the stage.

She laughed, adrenaline still coursing through her. "Crushed it," she echoed, unable to stop smiling.

Their quickstep that had everyone running across the floor in a blur of sequins and speed. Pasha, her partner for this one, winked at her as they took their marks.

"Try not to outshine me," he teased.

"No promises," she shot back, grinning.

The orchestra hit their cue, and they were off — fast footwork, spins, lifts, the audience clapping along. Pasha twirled her into a lift at the end, and when he set her down, they burst into laughter right there onstage. The joy was infectious; it wasn't about perfection, it was about connection.

The audience loved it.

Every time Diana glanced toward the front rows, she could see faces lit with excitement — phones recording, fans cheering, signs waving. But somewhere near the middle, she caught sight of someone who made her heart stutter.

Malachi.

Even from a distance, she could tell he was beaming. His curls framed his face perfectly, and she could see the familiar sparkle in his eyes even through the bright stage lights. He was cheering — loudly, unapologetically — and beside him were his parents, both smiling proudly.

Her chest tightened, warmth blooming through her.

The night rolled on in a blur of energy and movement — costume changes, applause, transitions.

And then came her favorite: the girls' contemporary number.

All the female pros gathered in the wings, a cluster of sparkles and energy. Emma was doing last-minute stretches, Dani was fixing her hair in a mirror, and Britt was humming the melody softly under her breath.

"Alright, ladies," Dani said, eyes bright. "Let's make them feel it."

Diana nodded, feeling the weight of the moment. This piece was special — no glitter, no lifts, no theatrics. Just raw emotion and power.

When the music began — slow, haunting, beautiful — the women moved as one. Every breath, every reach of the arm, every brush of fingers told a story. It was about strength, about femininity, about resilience.

Diana poured herself into it — into the movement, into the meaning. She felt her heartbeat sync with the music, her body weightless one moment and grounded the next.

When the song ended, and the lights faded to black, the applause that rose was deafening.

The dancers gathered backstage, breathless, eyes shining. Emma threw an arm around Diana, laughing. "That was magic!"

"It really was," Diana said softly, chest still heaving.

By the end of the show, her entire body buzzed with adrenaline. The bows came and went in a flurry of confetti and applause, the audience on their feet.

As the curtain closed for the final time that night, Diana couldn't stop smiling.

This was what she loved most — not the competition, not the cameras — just the dance. The movement, the music, the connection.

She was glowing.

Backstage, everyone was hugging, high-fiving, laughing. "We did it!" someone shouted. "First show down!"

Diana grinned, pulling her hair up into a messy bun as she headed toward the dressing area.

"Meet and greet in ten!" One of the crew members called out.

Diana nodded, grabbing a quick sip of water before heading out.

The meet and greet was chaos in the best way.

Fans lined up with posters, programs, and cameras, faces lit with excitement. Diana signed autographs, posed for photos, and answered questions about the tour.

One little girl, maybe seven years old, looked up at her with wide eyes and said, "You're my favorite. I wanna dance like you someday."

Diana's heart melted. She knelt down, smiling. "You already have the heart for it," she said softly. "That's the most important part."

The girl grinned, clutching her signed program like it was gold.

Moments like that — those were the ones that stuck.

By the time the meet and greet wrapped, the crowd had thinned, and the energy had softened. Diana exhaled, rolling her shoulders, the exhaustion finally catching up to her.

She was gathering her bag when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Excuse me, is this where we deliver flowers for the star of the show?"

She turned — and froze.

There was Malachi, standing just inside the backstage hallway, holding a bouquet so big it practically hid him. Red and white roses, tiny sprigs of evergreen tucked between them, wrapped in soft gold paper.

Behind him stood Felicia and Loren, both smiling warmly.

Her mouth fell open. "What—" Her eyes immediately watered as she laughed, taking the flowers from him. "You didn't have to—"

"Are you kidding?" Felicia interrupted. "We absolutely did! You were incredible out there, sweetheart."

Loren nodded in agreement. "We couldn't stop cheering. You light up the stage."

Diana flushed, cheeks pink. "Thank you," she said softly. "That means so much."

Then her eyes found Malachi's again. He was just looking at her — in that quiet, awestruck way that always made her stomach flip.

"You were amazing," he said finally, voice low. "I couldn't take my eyes off you."

Her throat tightened, a smile spreading slowly across her lips. "You're biased," she teased gently.

"Maybe," he said, stepping closer, "but I'm also right."

She laughed, the tension in her shoulders melting away. "Thank you," she whispered, brushing her fingers over his arm.

He smiled down at her, eyes soft. "I'm so proud of you."

And standing there — surrounded by the fading noise of the crew, the smell of flowers and stage makeup, the warmth of the people she loved — Diana realized that this moment, right here, was everything she'd dreamed of.

The stage. The applause. The joy of dancing.

And him — always waiting for her at the end of it all.

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dianasinclair first show done ❤️‍🔥

user HOT

brandonarmstrong we ate 🍽️ dianasinclair please stop

user GODDAMN

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aspenbrooks okayyy mama dianasinclair mamacita 🤔

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malachibarton damn dianasinclair 😘

malachibarton my tiny (but mighty) dancer dianasinclair i love you ❤️

user can malachi fight??? user not all of us 😉 malachibarton wanna bet user BAHAHAHHA

pashapashkov love dancing with you 🫶🏻 dianasinclair 🫶🏻

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user still wish we got a dance with grayson on the tour malachibarton you'll live user bro does not play about his girl

user body goals 🤩

The apartment was quiet when they walked in.

The kind of quiet that wasn't awkward, but heavy — like both of them could feel the weight of time pressing down on their shoulders. The first show of the DWTS Live Tour had been perfect, everything Diana could have dreamed of and more. She'd danced her heart out. The crowd had screamed her name.

And Malachi had been there.

In the crowd. In the moment. Cheering until his voice was gone.

Now, though, the night had slowed. The adrenaline had faded. It was just the two of them again, the city hum outside her window, and the echo of what tomorrow meant.

Their last night together.

At least for a while.

Diana shut the door softly behind them, her keys clinking as she dropped them into the small ceramic bowl by the counter. Malachi followed her in, his hand brushing against hers for a fleeting second — the kind of small, grounding touch that said I'm here.

Neither spoke.

They didn't need to.

Diana kicked off her sneakers and padded toward the living room, still in the soft sweats she'd thrown on after the show. The faint smell of her vanilla candle from earlier still lingered in the air, mixing with the faint citrus detergent from the laundry folded on the counter.

Malachi set his phone down on the coffee table, sliding onto the couch beside her. "You tired?" he asked quietly, voice hoarse from cheering.

She nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah. You?"

"A little."

They both knew that wasn't the real question.

There were a hundred other things hanging in the air — Are you okay? Are you ready to go? What's it going to be like without you here?

But neither of them said it. Not yet.

Diana curled her legs under her, leaning into him instinctively. Malachi's arm found her waist like it belonged there, pulling her closer until she ended up halfway in his lap.

The motion felt so natural it didn't even register at first. Her body just knew where to go.

His chest rose and fell under her hand, steady and slow. The glow from her floor lamp washed the room in a soft golden hue, and the low hum of the refrigerator filled the silence.

Diana exhaled softly, her head finding its way into the crook of his neck. His skin was warm, his familiar cologne faint but comforting.

He smelled like home.

Neither spoke for a long time.

Her fingers absentmindedly traced circles against his sweatshirt, her eyes heavy from exhaustion but her mind refusing to rest.

Malachi's hand had found her thigh, thumb rubbing slow, comforting lines against the fabric of her sweats. It wasn't meant to be teasing — it was grounding, protective. Every small touch said what words couldn't: I don't want you to go yet.

Diana's lips parted as if to speak, but she hesitated. She didn't want to break the stillness. Didn't want to say the words that would make it real.

So she just stayed there.

In his lap, in his arms, wrapped in that quiet kind of love that didn't need to be loud to be felt.

At one point, Malachi shifted just enough to press a soft kiss against the top of her head. She tilted her chin slightly, the corner of her mouth brushing against his throat in the process.

"Tonight was amazing," he murmured finally, voice low and rough.

Diana smiled faintly against his skin. "Yeah. It really was."

"I think this was the first time i've truly seen you like that."

She lifted her head slightly, eyes sleepy but soft. "Like what?"

He met her gaze, that tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Like you were exactly where you're supposed to be."

Something in her chest ached at that — the truth of it, the pride in his tone, the unspoken sadness underneath.

She reached up to touch his jaw, her thumb brushing gently along it. "Thank you for being there tonight."

He leaned into her touch. "Wouldn't have missed it for anything."

Their eyes held for a long moment, and Diana felt that quiet shift between them again — that magnetic stillness that always came before something she couldn't quite put into words.

But before she could speak, her exhaustion caught up with her. The late night, the hours of rehearsing, the adrenaline crash — it all hit at once.

Her body relaxed fully into his.

Malachi noticed it first — the way her breathing deepened, her head getting heavier against his chest. Her fingers, once resting on his sweatshirt, slipped slightly, limp and peaceful.

He looked down at her, and a soft, fond smile curved across his face.

"Hey," he whispered quietly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

No answer.

Just her even, steady breaths against his skin.

He chuckled under his breath — that low, gentle sound that carried so much affection. Carefully, he shifted, sliding one arm under her knees and the other around her back. She stirred faintly but didn't wake.

As he stood, Diana instinctively curled closer into him, her hand clutching at the fabric of his sweatshirt. Malachi held her tighter, steadying her against his chest as he carried her down the short hallway toward her bedroom.

The apartment lights glowed softly in the background — the faintest shimmer of the city visible through the window. It felt surreal, almost cinematic.

At the doorway to her room, Malachi paused. He looked down at her — her face calm, her lashes resting against her cheeks, the faintest smile on her lips even in sleep.

His throat tightened.

He leaned down slightly, his lips brushing the top of her hair.

"I'm gonna miss you so much," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You have no idea."

Diana didn't stir.

He smiled softly, a mix of sadness and warmth in his eyes. He adjusted his hold and lowered her gently onto the bed, careful not to wake her.

For a moment, he just stood there, watching her.

She looked peaceful, her arm half-tucked under her pillow, her hair spilling across the sheets.

He pulled the blanket over her, smoothing it gently before slipping in beside her.

As he lay down, Diana instinctively shifted again, turning toward him. Even in sleep, she found him.

Her arm draped across his chest. Her head settled over his heart.

Malachi exhaled softly, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close.

The silence of the apartment returned — steady, still, and full.

He let his eyes close, his hand absently running along her back, memorizing every small detail: the rhythm of her breathing, the way her body fit so perfectly against his, the faint scent of her shampoo.

He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want the night to end.

But the warmth, the quiet, and the comfort finally won.

And as he drifted off, the last thing he felt was her heartbeat against his chest — and the bittersweet ache of knowing that come morning, she'd be gone.

The Los Angeles morning air was crisp, the kind of early-January chill that felt strange for the city — light enough for a sweatshirt, but still cool against the skin. The sky stretched pale and golden above the palm trees, the sunrise brushing a soft glow over the airport drop-off lane. Car horns hummed faintly in the distance, and people were rushing past with luggage wheels rattling over the concrete.

Diana stood on the sidewalk outside the terminal, her suitcase handle in one hand, her carry-on bag looped over her shoulder. Her heart thudded quietly beneath her sweatshirt. The tour buses, the hotels, the late-night drives — they all waited ahead. But right now, all she could think about was him.

Malachi was bent over the trunk of his car, pulling out her last bag. The muscles in his arms flexed beneath his hoodie as he set it gently beside the rest of her luggage. He closed the trunk slowly, his movements unhurried — as if taking his time might somehow delay the moment they both knew was coming.

When he turned to her, his dark curls were slightly messy from the drive, his eyes softer than she'd ever seen them. "That's the last one," he said, voice low. "You got everything?"

Diana nodded, managing a small smile. "Yeah," she said, "I think so."

They stood there for a moment, the hum of the airport fading into the background. It wasn't quiet, not really — there were people everywhere — but the world seemed to shrink around them anyway. All she could see was him.

Malachi's lips curved into a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're really leaving," he said, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

"I am," she said softly. "Second show in Ohio tomorrow night."

He exhaled, nodding. "Right. Ohio."

For a second, neither of them said anything. Then, like a crack in a dam, the silence broke — a tear slipped down Diana's cheek before she even realized she was crying. She quickly lifted her hand to wipe it, laughing through the ache in her chest. "Sorry," she whispered. "I told myself I wasn't gonna cry."

Malachi smiled sadly and stepped closer, his thumb brushing away the tears she couldn't stop. "Hey," he murmured. "Don't be sorry."

The warmth of his hand on her cheek made everything inside her tighten — her heart, her breath, her restraint. She blinked up at him, memorizing the tiny details she loved most: the tiny scar near his eyebrow, the faint freckles across his nose, the softness in his gaze whenever he looked at her.

"I'm gonna miss you," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," he said. "I'm gonna miss you too. More than you think."

She let out a shaky laugh. "I think I know."

Malachi's arms slid around her then, pulling her in until she was pressed against his chest. The smell of his hoodie — that mix of detergent and something warm and familiar — wrapped around her like a memory she never wanted to let go of. Diana's hands fisted into the back of his sweatshirt as she buried her face in his shoulder, the tears spilling freely now.

They held each other for what felt like forever, neither wanting to move. His hand rubbed slow, soothing circles over her back, and she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek.

When they finally pulled away just enough to look at each other, their foreheads touched — just barely.

"Promise me you'll text me when you land," he said quietly.

"I promise," she whispered.

"And when you get to the theater."

"Promise."

"And when you're on stage—"

She laughed through her tears, pressing her hand gently against his chest. "Okay, okay, I promise everything."

He smiled then, but it was small, fragile. "Good."

There was a beat of silence before Diana rose onto her toes and kissed him. It wasn't rushed or desperate — it was slow, full of everything words couldn't say. His hands came up to cradle her face, deepening it just slightly. When they finally pulled apart, his forehead lingered against hers.

"I love you," he said.

Her throat tightened as she whispered back, "I love you too."

He closed his eyes for a second, like he wanted to hold onto the sound of it. Then he stepped back, forcing a grin. "Okay, go. Before I make you miss your flight."

Diana laughed softly, even though her chest ached. She bent down to grab her suitcase handle, then looked back up at him. "You'll come to one of the shows soon?"

"Of course," he said. "As soon as I can. And I'll be watching all the clips online until then."

She smiled, the kind that trembled at the edges. "You better."

As she started to turn toward the terminal doors, she heard him call softly behind her. "Hey, Di."

She looked back.

Malachi stood there on the sidewalk, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, the morning sun catching in his eyes. "Knock 'em dead, okay?" he said. "Show them what you're made of."

Her lips curved into a smile, teary but proud. "I will."

She took a few steps toward the entrance, her suitcase wheels bumping along the pavement. But as the glass doors loomed closer, the weight of leaving hit all over again — the distance, the long nights on the bus, the weeks of performing without him in the audience.

She stopped. Turned back around.

And before she could think twice, she dropped her bags and ran.

Malachi's eyes widened just as she threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him backward. He caught her easily, laughing softly into her hair as she buried her face in his chest again.

"Okay," he murmured, his voice low against her ear. "Okay, one more."

She pulled back just enough to look at him — really look — and then leaned in for another kiss. This one was softer, slower, but heavier somehow. The kind of kiss that said be safe and I'll be waiting.

When she finally broke away, her voice came out small. "I didn't say goodbye properly."

His smile was gentle. "You did now."

Her eyes shimmered with fresh tears as she nodded, pressing one last quick kiss to his cheek. "I'll call you when I land," she said again, voice trembling.

"I'll be waiting," he whispered.

She picked up her bags once more, forcing herself to move this time. Step by step, she walked toward the doors. She didn't look back right away — she couldn't. But when she reached the threshold, she turned her head slightly.

Malachi was still standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, watching her. The morning light glowed behind him, outlining his silhouette like something out of a dream. He smiled softly when their eyes met, and mouthed, I love you.

Diana smiled through the tears and mouthed it back. I love you too.

And then she walked inside.

The glass doors slid shut behind her with a soft hiss, muffling the sounds of the world outside. She paused just past security, taking one long, steadying breath. Her chest hurt — the good kind, the kind that came from loving someone enough to miss them this much.

As she started toward the check-in counter, she glanced once more through the window.

He was still there.

Still watching.

Still hers.

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Diana Sinclair • 1-7my hardest goodbye 🥺  ♥️ @Malachi Barton                395k                                                                    💬                7,442

userwait what's happening????!!! user i think she's leaving for tour liked by creator

Malachi Barton i'm gonna miss you so much ♥️ Diana Sinclair not as much as i'm gonna miss you ♥️

useri'm literally crying

userhe better come to one of the shows Malachi Barton don't worry 😉 i will

🪩

don't worry!! they won't be apart for long!

this actually made me cry bc all i could think about is how close i am to this book being done

i'm not ready 😢

😊