As summer rolled in, the days grew longer, and the air buzzed with the sounds of life. Yet, Mia seemed distant. The laughter that once filled our conversations was replaced by silence, and the sparkle in her eyes dimmed. I tried to reach out, to understand what was happening, but every attempt felt like I was grasping at smoke.
One evening, we sat under the stars, the cool breeze rustling the leaves above us. "Mia, are you okay? You've been so quiet lately," I asked, my heart racing with concern.
"I'm fine, Bornwell. Just tired," she replied, her gaze fixed on the stars, avoiding my eyes.
I wanted to shake her, to pull her back to the vibrant girl I knew, but I held back, afraid that pushing too hard would only push her away. The more she withdrew, the more I questioned myself. Was I not enough? Did I not love her the way she deserved?