y/n's pov
The tear-stained pillow laid in my arms as I sat there gasping for air. My voice felt weak from the screaming and the gasping. At one point, I thought this was going to be the end of me.
It may not be the end of me, but it is the end of us. At the end of the nights where we laid in this bed and had pillow fights. With the same pillow I now cuddle wishing it was you. The end of what I wish I could have seen coming.
And like a fool, I sat there. Waiting for a text, waiting for the door to open, waiting for any kind of sign that you were still mine. Any sign that this was just a stupid joke or prank you pulled.
I stayed with you through it all. We worked out the long-distance thing while I finished school. I left my country so I could support you in Argentina.
I just needed to hear your voice. Some reassurance to help ease the pain. But a phone call is no use when my number has been blocked.
The apartment that we once called ours held a feeling of emptiness. A feeling I could not escape. I was alone.
Not even in the same country as the people who I would have here with me. No one to hold my hand and tell me it is okay.
This is my life now... and there is no going back.
