I’m heartbroken.
Absolutely, bone-deep heartbroken.
Because I loved her.
Still love her.
God help me, I still love her.
After everything.
After the screaming and the lamps and the jealousy and the payphones and now this.
I’m still sitting here wishing this had a different explanation.
Some glitch.
Some mistake.
Some dumb coincidence.
Anything but what it is.
I laugh once.
Dry. Empty.
“Who are you?” I mutter.
And I don’t even know if I mean her or me.
Because what kind of guy stays after this?
What kind of guy sits on a bench grieving a woman who’s been spying on him?
What the hell is wrong with me?
I lean back, stare up at the sky between the buildings.
Feel the sun on my face.
Try to remember what my life felt like before her.
Before everything got this intense.
This consuming.
This… fused.
Soul-tied.
That’s what it feels like.
Like she’s threaded through me.
Like pulling away would rip something vital out with her.
Like leaving isn’t just a breakup.
