From the start (Joel Miller x Reader) (EDITED)

Chapter 15

In the wake of Joel's sudden disappearance, your world twisted into a labyrinth of unanswered questions and restless nights. The memories you once held dear now felt like heavy stones in your chest—sweet moments shadowed by doubt and confusion, leaving you adrift in a sea of unresolved feelings.

Days slipped into weeks, and his silence stretched like an unbridgeable gulf. Each message left unread, each call unanswered, carved a deeper ache into your heart. Hurt and anger wrestled inside you—why had he vanished without a word? Was it rejection? Was it something you could have stopped?

You threw yourself into the company of friends, seeking their warmth and distraction, but even their laughter couldn't quite fill the hollow he'd left behind. Their advice, well-intentioned and frequent, often felt like salt on a wound—simplistic answers to complicated emotions you didn't yet understand.

At times, your mind was a relentless loop of memories—his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the softness of his touch. Other moments were consumed by restless analysis of your last conversations, desperate to find a clue, a sign, anything that explained his silence.

Work became your refuge and your battlefield. The steady rhythm of deadlines and meetings offered a fragile normalcy, but Joel's absence lurked just beneath the surface—a quiet ache shadowing even your brightest days.

Nights were the hardest. Alone in the dark, with only the moonlight and your thoughts as company, the silence screamed. What had gone wrong? Was it something you said? Was he okay? The questions multiplied, echoing in the emptiness.

Still, beneath the pain, a fragile hope flickered. Maybe he'd come back. Maybe there'd be a reason, an explanation, or at least some word that could mend the silence.

But as the weeks wore on and the hope dimmed, you faced a harsh truth: closure might never come in the way you wished. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but slowly, it nudged you toward acceptance.

And so life, relentless and unyielding, moved forward—carrying you with it, one imperfect step at a time.

You wandered the winding path through the park, the trees stripped nearly bare, their branches sketching spindly shapes against a pale sky. Leaves crunched beneath your boots, the sound brittle and repetitive, like the looping thoughts in your head. You weren't walking toward anywhere in particular—just trying to move forward, somehow.

"Hey! Wait—" a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

You turned, startled. Sarah.

She jogged a few steps to catch up, flushed cheeks, scarf askew, a tote bag bumping against her hip. Her smile was wide and unguarded, like she hadn't yet learned how heavy the world could be.

"Didn't expect to see you here," she said, slightly breathless.

"Yeah," you said, managing a smile. "I needed some air. You?"

She shrugged. "Same. Campus is driving me nuts. I had to escape before I screamed in the library."

You chuckled softly, appreciating the levity. "Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one running from something."

Sarah fell into step beside you, her presence easy. "Are you okay?" she asked after a beat, her tone casual but eyes searching. "You seem... I don't know. Quiet."

You hesitated. How much did she know? How much should you say?

"I'm fine," you said, gently. "Just... life stuff. It's been a weird few weeks."

She pivoted, launching into a story about a disastrous group project and a professor who looked like a tired owl. You laughed in all the right places, grateful for the reprieve.