She wasn’t the same.
At first, it was subtle. A glance that lingered too long on something distant, a laugh that no longer belonged to her. Then, the changes came faster. Her touch cooled. Her eyes held shadows he couldn’t name.
„You’ve changed,“ he whispered one night.
She only smiled, but it wasn’t the smile he fell in love with.
Years ago, she burned—wild, untamed. Now, she was ice, distant and brittle. He tried to hold her, but she slipped away, piece by piece.
One night, he found her standing by the window, moonlight carving hollows into her face. She didn’t turn when he spoke.
„I remember when you loved me,“ he said.
She exhaled, slow and weary. „That girl is gone.“
The words cut deep. He searched her face, hoping for some flicker of warmth, of regret. There was none.
She left in the morning. No note. No goodbye. Just the scent of her perfume fading in the air, ghostly and cold.
He sat in the silence, a man stranded in time, clutching memories that had already turned to dust.
Outside, the sun rose.
Inside, the ember died.
