"What Are You Waiting For?" || ORIGINAL STORY.

Chapter Eighty-Nine.

Five years later.

Darren's POV.

Five fucking years have passed. 

I was in misery.

I moved out from my parents' house, focusing on this stupid modelling career and getting away from home.

I never wanted to go back there.

My brother was doing well, and I kept in contact with him.

In fact, I kept in contact with Ryan, Claire, Miriam, and Brandon.. so much.

I'd like to say I have moved on, but I haven't. 

I couldn't.

I still had hope—maybe, just maybe—I could find Tanya.

I wouldn't stop until I found her.

I leaned against a wall, taking a drag of my cigarette.

Every time I closed my eyes, she was there: her smile, her laugh, her eyes..

Everything about her haunted me, and it has been five years.

5 years of hoping she'd come back, of hoping that she'd walk through the door, walk into my life again.

My hands trembled as I brought the cigarette back up to my lips, inhaling another lungful of smoke.

It was a constant battle with myself: one part of me held onto the hope that one day, I'd find her, and the other part of me told me to let her go, to forget her and move forward.

But how do you forget someone you love so deeply, someone who became a part of you?

I took another drag, feeling the smoke burn in my lungs.

Five years, and still, I ached for her.

In the modelling industry, women were everywhere.

Beautiful, sexy.. but they didn't have her smile, they didn't have her eyes, they didn't have her laugh, they didn't have her.

No one could ever fill her place.

I exhaled, watching the smoke curl and drift away into the night air.

I wasn't sure how much more of this I could handle.

The parties, the photoshoots, the fake smiles..

It was all a blur.

I went through the motions, doing what I was supposed to do.

But it was all empty, meaningless.

Every night, I'd return home to my cold apartment, and all the loneliness and despair would come crashing back.

I could distract myself during the day, but at night, I had to confront the reality of not having her.

Nights were the worst.

I'd lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of her absence.

Sometimes, I'd close my eyes and imagine her beside me, imagine her warmth and her scent..

But then, I'd open my eyes, and I'd be alone, just like every night before.

I was a damn mess.

The more time passed, the more I craved a drink.

I drank too much, partied too much, did too many risky things.