DYLAN"I'm not leaving you," she said. "I'm not leaving you even though you're a complete dickhead."Those words played in my head every single day for six years.Every morning when I woke up alone in my penthouse, the sheets cold on the other side of the bed, the pillow still holding the shape of a head that never came back. I would reach across the mattress before I opened my eyes, my hand searching for warmth, for skin, for her. And every morning, my hand found nothing. Just empty space. Just the silence that had become my only constant companion.Every night when I lay on my back staring at the ceiling, counting the hours until the sun came up, the city lights casting shadows across the walls, the sound of my own breathing too loud in the quiet. I would replay our last conversation in my head, the one in her room before she ran, the one where she told me to stay away from her. I would wonder if I had said something different, done something different, been someone different, would
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