Eternal Echoes

Chapter Forty: Words Left Unsaid

Michaella's POV

My phone chimed almost immediately with his response.

"Of course."

Taking a deep breath, I typed out my next message. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he replied. "How about you?"

"I'm okay," I wrote back, my fingers trembling slightly. "I saw your project."

"And what do you think of it?" he asked.

"It's amazing, one of the best," I responded truthfully.

"Yes, I know," he said, his confidence palpable even through the screen.

I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to tell him I missed him, that I loved him, that I couldn't stop thinking about him. That he was haunting all my dreams. But I couldn't bring myself to type the words. Instead, I remained silent.

"Do you want anything?" he prompted after a moment.

"No," I replied, feeling the weight of the unsaid words. "Just checking up on you."

"Oh, okay. I can't talk now, I'm in a meeting," he said.

"Okay, I'm sorry for interrupting," I typed back, my heart sinking.

"No, it's okay," he assured me.

"Okay, bye," I whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

"Bye," he replied.

As I set my phone down, a tear slid down my cheek. "Nothing feels right without you, Gabrielle," I whispered into the silence, the ache in my heart growing stronger with each passing second.

The next morning, I woke up with a heavy heart. The conversation with Gabrielle lingered in my mind, making it difficult to focus on anything else. Determined to distract myself, I decided to visit the new café again. Maybe I could immerse myself in writing or find some inspiration there.

The café was bustling with activity, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the sound of chatter and laughter. I found an empty table in the corner and ordered my usual drink, hoping the familiar routine would bring some comfort.

As I sipped my coffee, I pulled out my notebook and tried to write. But the words wouldn't come. My thoughts kept drifting back to Gabrielle, to the message I had sent and his brief, distant replies. It felt like an open wound, and I couldn't seem to find a way to heal.

I was lost in my thoughts when the young photographer from yesterday approached my table, a friendly smile on his face.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

I nodded, grateful for the distraction. "Not at all. Have a seat."

He sat down and placed his camera on the table. "How's your day going?"

I forced a smile. "It's been okay. How about you?"

"Busy, but good," he replied. "I've been working on a few projects and trying to capture the essence of this place. It's got such a unique vibe."

"It does," I agreed, looking around the café. "There's something about it that's very inspiring."

He nodded. "Exactly. By the way, I wanted to follow up on our conversation from yesterday. Are you still interested in that collaboration?"

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I think I am. What do you have in mind?"

He leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "I was thinking of a photo series that captures the different aspects of creative life in the city. Writers, artists, musicians – people like you who find inspiration in everyday moments."

"That sounds amazing," I said, feeling a spark of excitement. "I'd love to be a part of it."

"Great," he said, smiling. "We can start planning it out and see where it takes us. I think it'll be a lot of fun."

We spent the next hour discussing ideas and brainstorming for the project. For the first time in days, I felt a sense of purpose and excitement. It was a welcome distraction from the pain of missing Gabrielle.

After we finished our discussion, I decided to take a walk to clear my head. The city was alive with energy, and the fresh air helped to lift my spirits. As I strolled through the streets, I found myself thinking about the future and the possibilities that lay ahead.

When I returned home later that afternoon, I felt a bit more at peace. The collaboration with the photographer had given me something to look forward to, something to focus on other than my heartache.

But as evening fell, the loneliness crept back in. I found myself reaching for my phone, scrolling through old messages and pictures of Gabrielle. The ache in my chest was a constant reminder of what I had lost.

In a moment of weakness, I typed out another message to him.

"I miss you."

I stared at the screen, my finger hovering over the send button. But before I could convince myself to send it, I deleted the message. It wouldn't change anything. He had moved on, and I needed to find a way to do the same.

Taking a deep breath, I put my phone away and focused on the project with the photographer. It was a small step, but it was a step forward. And for now, that was enough.

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What do you think? Can you forget someone you loved so much?