Abigail’s POVOne year laterToday marks exactly one year since Alex left the house. Since then, I’ve been working tirelessly on finishing my PhD degree, and it hasn’t been easy, not in the slightest. The nights were long, filled with endless research papers, late-night library sessions, and the constant ache of missing him. I’ve been talking to him online, of course, but gradually, the communication dwindled.There came a point when I couldn’t contact him anymore. His father refused to cooperate, and every request for Alex’s number was met with cold silence or outright refusal. I asked countless times, and every time, his father would shake his head, flat-faced, never budging.Despite the frustration and sadness, I didn’t give up. Hope clung to me like a second skin. I kept hoping he would come back one day, even though at night, I would sometimes eavesdrop near his father’s office, hearing hushed conversations with his mother, probably asking about Alex.Whenever I moved closer, his
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