Thirty Days Of September

chapter 35: emptiness

After days of trying to move on, Aaron found that no matter what he did, he couldn't erase Atasha from his mind. The empty spaces she had once filled in his life now felt gaping and impossible to ignore. The more he tried to distract himself, the more he was reminded of her—the way she smiled, her gentle voice, and the warmth of her presence during those thirty days.

Why can't I just forget? he thought, rubbing his temples in frustration. I should be able to move on. It's just a relationship, right? People break up all the time. So why does it feel like I've lost a part of myself?

He glanced around his apartment, the once vibrant space now feeling dull and lifeless without her laughter echoing off the walls. The little things that used to make him smile—like the coffee mug she insisted on using or the blanket they'd wrapped around themselves during their late-night talks—now felt like painful reminders of what was missing.

Everywhere I look, it's her. He picked up the mug, cradling it in his hands. She left such a mark on my life in just thirty days. I can still hear her voice, the way she would laugh at my jokes, even the bad ones. And that look in her eyes when she was passionate about something... it's like I could see the world reflected in them.

He set the mug down, running a hand through his hair as he recalled their last moments together. She said she wanted to give me my freedom. Freedom? What does that even mean when all I want is to be with her? I don't need freedom; I need her! Why didn't I fight harder?

Aaron leaned back against the couch, feeling the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. I made promises to myself, to her. But how could I promise her anything when I can't even sort out my own feelings? I still feel tethered to her, even if she's miles away. It's as if a part of me is anchored to her, and the more I try to cut the rope, the tighter it seems to pull.

He stood up, pacing the room, trying to shake off the frustration that settled in his chest. This is ridiculous! I should be able to focus on work, on my projects, but I can't think straight when all I see is Atasha's face in my mind.

He stopped in front of the window, staring out at the world outside, the vibrant colors of life moving past him. Maybe I need to do something about this. Maybe I should reach out to her again. Just a simple message, nothing too heavy. Let her know I'm thinking about her. No, that's not enough. I need to show her that I care, that I want to make things right. But what if she's moved on? What if she's happier without me?

His heart sank at the thought, but he quickly shook his head, dispelling the negativity. I can't let that stop me. I owe it to myself, and to her, to at least try. I can't let fear dictate my actions anymore. I've spent too long wondering 'what if' when I could be making things happen.

With renewed determination, he walked back to his desk, his fingers hovering over his phone. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. It's now or never. He began to type, pouring his heart into the words, hoping that somehow, they would bridge the distance between them.

Atasha, I can't stop thinking about you. I miss our moments together more than I can express. I know we had our reasons for parting, but I can't shake this feeling that there's still something between us worth fighting for. Can we talk?

As he hit send, Aaron felt a rush of both fear and hope. This was it. He was taking a step toward reclaiming the part of his life that had been missing since she left. No matter what happened next, he knew he had to try.

As he leaned back on the couch, his phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, frowning at the unfamiliar number, but something urged him to pick up.