The rain fell softly, leaving a crisp scent on the pavement that evening as Alex stood in the doorway, memories flooding back like the drizzle outside. It was 1:58 AM, and he could still distinctly remember the look on Jamie's face, illuminated softly by the glow of their old lamp.

The two of them had shared countless whispers through the darkness, secrets that felt sacred—words meant just for each other. “I love you,” she had said, a promise wrapped in vulnerability. Yet, just like that, she had gone away, leaving behind lingering questions and a vacant space beside him.

Alex recalled the joyous moments when they would dance carelessly, with Jamie’s laughter ringing like bells. They were the life of any party, her playful teasing always drawing him in, making him roll his eyes while secretly reveling in her spontaneity. He remembered their first meeting; her handshake, firm yet tender, as she met his father with a smile that lit the room.

But time unfolded in ways that neither had anticipated. The rain, once refreshing, now felt like a reminder of what was lost. Sitting on the floor wearing Jamie's oversized sweater, Alex reflected on the paradox of standing still while everything changed around him. He picked up his phone, scrolling through pictures that felt etched in a different time—her at peace while he marveled at her beauty as she slept. Those memories were all he clung to now, pieces of a puzzle that was incomplete.

In conversations with mutual friends, he would cautiously probe for news, his heart sinking with each report of Jamie’s life, knowing all too well that they were now worlds apart. He hoped it was beautiful where she was, and that the sun shone brightly over her days, thinking maybe—just maybe—something would remind her of him, a hint of nostalgia that would make her wish she had stayed.

But Alex wrestled with the ache of knowing he couldn't simply go back, that life’s currents had taken them in different directions. He prepared himself for her absence, realizing he didn’t know how to live like she was a ghost, haunting the corners of his mind and the fabric of his clothes.

Even amidst the heartache, he understood that she would always be there, her name forever on his lips—a bittersweet echo reminding him of the love they had forged, the kisses that seemed endless until that inevitable “goodbye.” As the rain picked up, drumming against the window, he whispered her name softly, surrendering to the memories that brought him joy and pain alike. He longed for the day he could dance again, free from the shadows of love lost, but until then, he would sit and remember—wearing the remnants of her presence like armor against the world.