Thirty Days Of September

chapter 33: the letter

As the first rays of sunlight streamed into the room, Aaron stirred awake, a warm sense of contentment enveloping him. He glanced to his side, expecting to see Atasha, but the space beside him was empty. A knot of anxiety formed in his stomach.

"Atasha?" he called out softly, but only the gentle sound of the waves crashing against the shore responded. He threw the covers aside and hurriedly scanned the room. The atmosphere felt eerily quiet without her presence.

Panic set in as he approached the bedside table. His heart sank when he spotted a piece of paper resting there. With trembling hands, he picked it up and began to read Atasha's note.

Dear Aaron,

I just want to express my gratitude for these past thirty days of September. They've been some of the happiest moments of my life, filled with laughter, adventure, and memories I will cherish forever.

Thank you for the hugs and the kiss...

I've made the decision to leave because I want to give you your freedom, just as we agreed. I know that if I say goodbye in person, I might struggle to keep this promise to you.

Please remember that I will always hold our time together close to my heart. I love you, and I always will. I hope you find what you're searching for and discover happiness with Candice. I'm truly sorry for the situation I created between you two. I'm letting you go now, setting you free with a smile.

I won't be returning to our house; my personal belongings have already been delivered to my parents' home.

Thank you for the wonderful thirty days of September.

With all my love,
Atasha

The words blurred in Aaron's vision as his heart raced. "No," he whispered, disbelief coursing through him. He felt an overwhelming mix of emotions: confusion, sorrow, and a gnawing sense of loss.

He crumpled the note in his hand, his mind racing. How could she just leave without telling him personally? Didn't she realize he cared for her truly? The weight of her absence pressed down on him, suffocating and cold. He thought about the moments they had shared—the laughter, the adventures, the tender glances.

As he stood there, grappling with the rawness of his feelings, he felt an urge to run after her, to tell her that in 30 days of September he realized she meant to him. But the thought of her wanting freedom for him brought him pain. Did she think she had to sacrifice her happiness for his sake?

Frustration bubbled up inside him, battling against the sadness that threatened to consume him. He couldn't understand why she felt she had to go. "Why didn't you talk to me? Why now?" he muttered, clutching the note tightly.

With a deep breath, he stepped outside, scanning the beach for any sign of her. The golden sand stretched out before him, untouched except for the gentle lapping of the waves.

"Atasha!" he called out again, desperation creeping into his voice. But the only response was the sound of the ocean, indifferent to his turmoil.

He felt lost, standing alone in the sunlight, the warmth failing to reach the chill in his heart. In that moment, Aaron realized he had to confront his feelings head-on. He couldn't let her sacrifice her happiness without a fight.

Determined, he took a deep breath and began to walk along the shore, hoping to find her before it was too late.

Aaron walked swiftly along the shore, his eyes scanning the horizon for any glimpse of her. The wind whipped through his hair as the sun climbed higher in the sky, but all he could hear were the haunting echoes of her words in his mind. Candice. The name hit him like a blow, yet it didn't carry the weight it once had. The woman he'd thought he'd loved before Atasha entered his life now seemed like a distant memory, a different time.

But Atasha—she had changed everything. In thirty days, she had become so much more to him than he could have imagined. Her laughter, her warmth, the way she cared for him without asking for anything in return. How could she have thought he still wanted anyone else?

As his feet sank into the soft sand, he recalled the small, thoughtful moments—how she'd surprise him with his favorite breakfast, or how she'd sit beside him quietly, allowing him space yet always being there. It wasn't the grand gestures that made him fall for her; it was the way she slipped into his life so effortlessly, becoming a part of him.

Aaron's pace quickened. He had to find her, to tell her the truth—how much she meant to him now, how wrong she had been in thinking she was in the way. He didn't care about the deal they made, or the freedom she thought he needed. None of it mattered anymore. What mattered was Atasha.

Aaron arrived home, greeted by the deafening silence that now filled every corner of the house. No more Atasha waiting at the door, her warm smile lighting up the room. No more gentle voice asking him how his day had been, whether he had eaten dinner, or if he wanted coffee. The absence of her presence was overwhelming, like a shadow that hung heavy over everything.

He stood by the doorway, frozen for a moment, staring at the empty living room where she used to sit, waiting for him with a book in her hand or her feet tucked under her on the couch. Her laughter, her questions, even the simple conversations about the smallest things—everything felt like it had vanished into thin air, leaving a hollow space where warmth used to be.

Aaron ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. He dropped his keys on the table, the sound loud in the quietness of the house. His gaze flicked to the kitchen where she used to brew coffee for him late at night, the smell filling the air as she'd join him for a cup, no matter how tired she was.

Now, the kitchen felt as cold and distant as the rest of the house.

He found himself walking through the halls aimlessly, as though searching for something that he knew wasn't there. His footsteps echoed in the silence, each one a reminder that Atasha was gone.

Aaron walked into their bedroom, half-expecting to see her sitting on the bed, her eyes lighting up when he entered. But the room was just as empty as the rest of the house, the bed neatly made. His chest tightened, and for the first time, he realized just how deeply he missed her.

The emptiness, the silence—it wasn't just the absence of another person. It was the absence of her, the person who had made everything feel alive, who had filled his days with warmth and love, even when he hadn't realized it at the time.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the spot where she used to lay beside him, and a deep ache settled into his heart. He never thought the silence could be this loud, but now, it was deafening.

"I should have told you sooner," he whispered, his voice breaking the quiet, but it felt like too little, too late.

The house was just a house without her. And for the first time, Aaron understood that it wasn't freedom he needed—it was Atasha.