The next morning, the sunlight streamed through the windows, painting the room in soft, golden hues. But the light only served to highlight the emptiness around her. The coffee table was bare, the cushions on the couch slightly askew remnants of his brief presence the night before.
She picked up her phone, scrolling through old photos of them together. His smile stared back at her, his arm slung casually over her shoulder. They looked happy, carefree, like nothing in the world could break them.
But it had.
Her thumb hovered over the delete button, but she couldn't bring herself to press it. She tossed the phone aside, burying her face in her hands.
"How am I supposed to move on?" she whispered. "How am I supposed to let go when I still feel everything?"
Her friends had told her to stay strong, to take the high road, to keep things civil if he ever came back. But they didn't understand. They hadn't loved the way she had, so deeply that it felt like losing him had torn a piece of her soul away.