It's Like I Waited My Whole Life Novels & Stories

That broke me. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The world around us blurred; the ticking clock, the faint hum of the wind outside, everything felt far away. I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, but the tears still burned their way out anyway. “I waited for you,” I said, my voice cracking. “Do you have any idea what that felt like? Waiting every single day, wondering if you’d come back the same, hoping you’d still be the man who once said he couldn’t breathe without me?”

A faint smile broke through her tear-streaked face as she whispered through her sobs, "Thank you." After that, she looked up Cameron online, then spent the next two weeks waiting outside Cameron's residential area, only for him to never appear even once. That night, Bianca was dead set on waiting for Cameron. He was a no-show as dawn broke, though, so she despondently trudged down the street, the biting wind whipping at her face. She felt no pain, though, only the suffocating pressure in her chest, as if something inside her was collapsing.

that I wouldnt have to spend the rest of my life in the shadow of this emptiness and that she would return to me. But every day seemed to be a sentence. An excruciatingly slow waiting game. What if she doesnt awaken? The question kept coming back to me like a ghost gnawing at me while remaining just out of reach. I squeezed the soap bar until the plastic creaked but it didnt help.

(Music) It's you. It's you... I've been waiting for all of my life... (Music) Maybe it's you... Maybe it's you... I've been waiting for all of my life...

I hung up and looked out the window again. The city bowed at my feet. The world waited to be conquered. Four years of pain and waiting. All for this. It was worth it.

So he came up with this pathetic, ridiculous excuse to kick me out of my own life. But here's the truth he doesn't know. I've been waiting for this day for a very long time, too.

Years of waiting gone in a few words. I had never felt so alone.

I love you. I had spent years of my life desperately waiting to hear those exact words. I had waited for them on those dark nights when the electricity was cut off in our tiny rented apartment. I had waited for them when my back was peeling from hauling heavy freight at the warehouse, in so much pain I couldn't straighten my spine. I had waited for them when I stared down at that slice of mango cake at the celebratory dinner. And I had even waited for them the exact moment that HR disciplinary notice was blasted out to the entire company.

Because waiting was killing me. And I was done waiting.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

I don't even wait for him to say anything, but leave with his food as my mind replays his words. Waiting for me. That's what jumps in my head, whilst waiting for the microwave. Those three magical words, it should have been me saying those words not him. I'm usually the one waiting for him, waiting for him to come home, waiting for him to notice me, waiting for him to tell me that he lo - no, I won't go that far. The point is, I'm shocked yet my chest warms at his actions. Him waiting for me like how I'd done so many times, when he returned home late.