July 1 – Somewhere Between Sleep and Goodbye
It started in a field.
Soft grass.
Golden light.
No pain.
No machines.
No cough in his voice.
He stood beneath a tree — the kind that belongs to poetry — and when I saw him, he smiled.
The smile I loved most.
The tiredness was gone.
So was the shadow of death.
"Mi-Chan," he said.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't speak.
I just stared.
And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he opened his arms.
And I ran.
—
He felt the same.
Warm.
Steady.
Like home.
"I missed you," I whispered into his neck.
"I never left," he said.
"But I couldn't find you."
"You weren't supposed to. Not yet."
I pulled back, looked at him.
"You're, okay?"
He nodded.
"I'm better. But I can't stay."
That sentence shattered me. I could feel the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
We sat beneath the tree, hand in hand.
Birds flew overhead.
Somewhere, music played — not loud, just enough to remind me that peace has a sound.
—
"Do you remember our dance?" he asked.
"I remember everything."
"I kept it with me. That moment. It made the leaving easier."
I bit my lip.
"I wasn't ready."
"You never would've been."
"I'm still not."
He smiled.
"Then hold on."
"To what?"
"To the love. Not the loss."
—
He stood again, offered me his hand.
"Dance with me one last time?"
I nodded.
There was no music.
Just wind.
And heartbeats.
And a rhythm only we knew.
We moved slowly.
Then slower.
Then not at all.
Just holding.
Just breathing.
—
"I have to go," he whispered against my ear.
"Please don't."
"Then, say it."
"I don't want to."
"Say it anyway."
I closed my eyes.
"I love you."
He kissed my forehead.
"I love you more."
—
And then he was gone.
The field faded.
The light disappeared.
I woke in my bed, breathless, with tears drying on my cheeks.
But for once, I didn't cry.
Not from sadness.
From something else.
Something warmer.
I got up, made tea, opened the window.
And whispered,
"Goodbye… for now."
Because I know one day, I'll see him again.
And we'll dance.
And we'll laugh.
And we'll never have to say goodbye again.
Until then… I'll keep living.
I'll keep writing.
I'll keep loving.
For him.
With him.
___________________________________________________________________
✨ Epilogue:
Five Years Later – April 8
"A Ride I Took Without Him"
Today marks five years since the day I first met him.
Since the rainstorm and the jacket.
Since the ride I didn't ask for but desperately needed.
Since everything changed.
I've been to Paris now.
Left a lock on the bridge with both our names.
I've published our story — this one — the one you're reading now.
And every day, I still make tea.
Every day, I still hear his voice in the quiet.
And every day, I remember that love never dies.
It only changes form.
From bodies to pages.
From hands to memories.
From a heartbeat to the sound of wind through trees.
He loved me.
And I loved him.
We were brief.
But we were infinite.
Because even now, after everything, when people ask me what this story is about…
I smile, look up, and say the words he left me with:
"Love has no limits."
— Mi-Chan