I See You!

The first time she said it, she was laughing, her face lit up by the golden hues of the setting sun. “I can’t live without you,” she declared, half-mocking his stubbornness over choosing which pizza topping to order. He had rolled his eyes and teased her about being overly dramatic, but inside, those words felt like they were carved into his chest. She couldn’t possibly know how much they meant to him, how much he wanted to believe them—to hold them close, as if they could shield him from everything wrong in the world.

They met at a time when life still felt infinite, each day bleeding into the next with boundless energy. He loved her laugh, the way it erupted unexpectedly, filling the room and spilling into his soul. She loved his silence, the steady way he listened, how he made her feel seen without needing to say much. They fit together in that effortless way people often mistake for destiny.

But life isn’t always kind to lovers. It tests them in ways they don’t expect.

---

It had been five years since the accident. Five long years since the day he’d promised to be back in time for dinner but hadn’t returned. A sudden downpour, slippery roads, and a corner that came too fast—the world had stopped for him, and for her, it had never spun the same way again.

She had screamed when she got the call, disbelief turning into a hollow, aching numbness. At his funeral, she had stood at the edge of the grave, her hand clutching a single lily, her lips trembling as she whispered to his still, unhearing form: “I told you, I can’t live without you. So why did you leave?”

Time marched forward, as it always does, dragging her along with it. The world expected her to heal, to move on, to let go. But how do you let go of someone who’s woven into every part of you? How do you move forward when every step feels like it’s taking you farther away from the person who once made you whole?

---

Every year, on the anniversary of his passing, she returned to the same spot. The cemetery was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt sacred. His grave was marked by a simple headstone—just his name, his dates, and the words she’d chosen: Forever Yours.

This year, the wind carried the faint scent of jasmine, her favorite flower and the one he’d always brought her on their dates. She knelt down, placing a bouquet of fresh lilies at the base of the stone, her fingers tracing the engraved letters.

“Hi,” she said softly, her voice catching. “It’s me again. I… I brought your favorite too. Remember how you always insisted lilies were ‘manly’ enough to justify buying them?” She chuckled through the tears threatening to spill.

She told him about her year, about the mundane details and the moments that had reminded her of him. She’d tried to cook his favorite dish but burned it horribly, ending up with instant noodles and a fit of laughter she hadn’t felt in months. She’d found an old sweater of his, still carrying the faintest trace of his cologne. She’d worn it for days, unable to part with the fragile thread connecting her to him.

The sun dipped lower in the sky as she sat there, leaning against the cold stone as if it were a part of him. And in a way, it was. This was all she had left—this place, these visits, this quiet companionship.

“I still can’t live without you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “But I’m learning how to carry you with me. You’re here, you know. In every thought, every breath. I hope you know that.”

---

She always stayed until the stars came out. The world around her faded into the kind of stillness that felt almost otherworldly. When she finally rose to leave, she placed a kiss on her fingers and pressed them against his name.

As she walked away, her silhouette bathed in moonlight, the wind picked up, carrying her whispered words to the heavens:

“I’ll see you next year.”