I Miss Her Novels & Stories

She was finally back in my life, I should be glad and shower her with all the love we had missed out on. ('AS MUCH AS I AM CONFUSED SAYING THIS, I KINDA MISSED SILVAR, SHE ALWAYS HAD A WAY OF MAKING US FEEL COMPLETELY GOOD'). 'Yeah, I missed her too'.

Nor about her mother and not even about herself being a heart patient, and I can’t give her the answers. But… I miss her. I miss her so much. Astrid, after all this while...is there any way we can make this right?

I am supposed to be happy that at least she will be happy to have found genuine love somewhere else but I don't feel happy. I feel miserable. I am miserable. I am finding it very difficult to let go but I believe it is because I am used to her presence in the house already. To be honest, I miss her. I f***ing miss everything about her. The way she bites her lips, the smile on her face when I say something funny, the way she looks at me with adorable eyes, the way she shows me concern even when nothing is wrong with me. I miss everything about her and everything here reminds me of her.

She missed the weight of his body against hers, the sensation of being held as if she were the most precious thing in his world. The ache within her was palpable, a yearning that seemed to grow stronger with every passing day. She missed the easy banter, the shared laughter, and the moments of vulnerability they had shared. It was as if a part of her had been left incomplete, a puzzle with a missing piece that could only be filled by his presence.

I lean back against the couch, the corners of my mouth curling into a small smile as her face fills my head. I miss her. I miss her so bad it aches in my chest like a bruise that won’t fade. I miss the way she rolls her eyes at me when I’m messing with her. The way she fires back with something even sharper when I start a banter. I miss how being around her makes everything feel complete. Like I have everything. With her, I do. I miss staring into her eyes until she blushes when I won’t look away. I miss our late-night conversations, both the stupid ones and the ones that mean something.

I miss her anyway. Not simply her presence, though God knows the room feels wrong without it. I miss the small sounds of her. Her bare feet crossing the carpet, the quiet hum she makes when pinning up her hair. I miss looking up from a book and finding her watching me as though she’s still occasionally surprised that I am real. And today I almost lost all of that. The realization settles heavily over the room, over me.

She’ll probably just return to the Mountain Spring pack. I have really failed her and I might have to suffer for it for the rest of my life. I get into the shower and allow the water to cascade over me, my mind wandering to many places. I wish there was something I could do about this situation. I wish I could turn back the hands of time. I would’ve done it differently. Fuck. I miss her so much. I miss the softness of her lips. I miss how I used to wake up to her face every morning. Her smile is the most beautiful I have ever seen and I miss that.

God, I want her so badly it feels like something inside me is being ripped apart. I miss her, even though I never got to hold her, never got to feel her in my arms or hear her cry or see her eyes open for the first time, the absence of those moments feels just as real as if I had lived them. I only saw her in pictures, and that’s not enough. It will never be enough.

She is still the one I love and will love for life. I miss her. I fucking miss her. So I want to know if she will in the office today, she needs to come, or else I will go crazy more.

Empty. To be completely honest, I miss her. I fucking miss everything about her. The way she chews her bottom lip when she’s deep in thought, the way her eyes light up when I say something even remotely funny, the way she looks at me with those gorgeous eyes that seem to see straight through me. I miss the way she fusses over me, even when there’s nothing wrong. She has this way of making me feel like I matter, like I’m more than just a man carrying the weight of his past.