I Miss The Old Me Novels & Stories

“Now, you are my fucking prisoner. A body to punish as I see fit and I no longer care about your pleasure.” Her jaw clenched. “That’s a shame, then. Because I miss the old you. I miss how you took care of me. I miss being in your arms. I miss the grey eyes that used to soften when they fell on me. I miss the soft touches and those kisses.” A tear slipped out of her eye and her voice lowered, “I miss your smile.”

Gone was the reckless, impulsive eighteen-year-old I once was. I didn’t have it in me to approach her. I could only wish her happiness, even though no one would ever replace her in my heart. Life carried on. After securing a new job as a manager, I reported for my first day at the company. To my surprise, I ran into Liam. The sight of him stirred old memories. The guilt of that day in the grove lingered, and part of me was still wary of how he might feel. However, Liam greeted me with a broad smile, his tone warm and friendly.

I also have the full security detail. Still, under the pride of what I’ve done, there’s a small ache. The memory of how happy we were the day we moved in after our honeymoon. I thought we’d built something solid. I didn’t know how easy it would be to break. I don’t miss him. I miss who I thought we were. I walk to the balcony and look out at the city lights in the distance. The glass catches my reflection… not the girl who came here 2 years ago, but the woman who finally fought back.

It wasn’t as full as before James said that was normal, but still, it terrified me every time I touched him. “I miss them,” I whispered. “I miss our babies kicking against my palm like they used to… like they knew it was me.” I let my thumb move in slow circles, imagining the tiny lives that once fluttered beneath my touch. “You’d laugh at me if you could see me now,” I said, my voice breaking. “Sitting here like some hopeless fool, talking to you when you can’t even answer.” A shaky breath escaped my lips. “I miss you,” I said again, softer this time. “I miss the way you’d roll your eyes whenever I teased you. I miss the way you’d pretend not to care when you actually did. God, Jay… I even

The kind only mothers know how to leave open wide enough to let you spill your whole heart in it. “And now?” she asked gently. “I feel like I don’t belong here anymore.” “Because of him?” “Not just him,” I said. “Because of you. Because of… everything. I miss Sunday mornings and the way the sun hits our old front porch. I miss bagels from Tony’s and the bodega cat on 4th that always tried to climb in my bag. I miss hearing Spanish without it being exoticized. I miss feeling normal.” “And what are you thinking?”

Tired of losing pieces of myself every time he walked back in. I turned back to my phone and typed: “I’ve missed you. Count me in.” And for the first time in what felt like forever, I smiled.

"We had so many good memories. You said you'd love me forever. How can you give up on me like this?" I looked at her, listening to it twist—like this was somehow on me. A sharp ache hit my chest. What kind of person had I loved all those years?

One evening, I passed by the pickup station and saw her helping an elderly neighbor look for a package. Sunlight poured through the windows, spilling across her shoulders. The whole scene felt weirdly familiar. Mr. Wogan happened to be there too. "Seeing this place now kinda reminds me of you back then." I watched the kids playing outside and smiled a little. "Kindness shouldn't be something one person carries alone. It should be something the whole community shares." Now I finally got to live like everyone else. When I wanted to help, I helped. When I was tired, I went home.

Maybe because I was afraid they would get bored and leave me one day, and I would go back to being the old Ana who had no one, who had nothing, who only had debt and a fat body no one wanted. I wiped my tears. I cleaned myself. I turned off the faucet and put my underwear back on. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My curly hair was messy. "You're broken. You're crazy." I don't know if anyone can fix me, or if I even want to be fixed. What I know is that I can't go back to being the old Ana. And maybe, that's not entirely bad. I left the bathroom. My phone vibrated on the table.

It feel‌s lik‍e stepping into somethin‍g I have been⁠ starving for w‌ithout⁠ realizin‌g it l⁠ike finding a piece of myself I did not‍ know was missing. My mind spins, hazy and unst‌e⁠a‍dy. I want to blam⁠e it on the pai⁠n medication still lingeri⁠ng i⁠n my system, on t‌he exha⁠us⁠t⁠ion, o⁠n⁠ anything that might ma‌ke this feel less re‍al. But I know the truth‍. I have missed this.‌ Miss⁠ed her. And now that I am here, b⁠uried inside her, I cannot r‍emember how I ever convinced my⁠self to stay awa‌y⁠.