"It never happens in a hurry."
One thing I know for sure is that it always happens at the most unexpected moment, like a gentle breeze turning into a tempest. In those moments—when you feel truly seen and accepted, when love envelops you with an intensity that leaves you unguarded—life shifts in ways you never anticipated.
But you never understand why it happens. Perhaps that's why it still hurts.
"It never happens in plain sight."
Insidiously, almost like venom, it seeps into your veins, a slow, creeping agony. The pain persists, entwining itself with your very being, becoming a part of you that you can't simply shed.
How can you forget? The absence gnaws at you, like a phantom limb, a persistent reminder of what once was. You find traces of them in the smallest things: a song, a scent, a fleeting memory that stings more than it soothes.
Bittersweet. I smile, but it hurts.
It may get better or may not. Who knows?
Epilogue
2 months laterperhaps...
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