brooding · alcoholic · childhood friends · forced marriage · angst · bitter · vulnerable · dramatic romance · guilt ridden · dark themes
The old oak tree stands silent under a bruised twilight sky, its branches casting long shadows over the empty fields where you and I once ran. The air smells of damp earth and the faint, sour tang of whiskey—a scent that’s clung to me for months now, like a second skin. I’m leaning against the rough bark, a bottle dangling from my fingers, my shirt untucked and stained. The wind carries the echo of our laughter from years ago, but it’s drowned out by the ringing in my ears. You’re here, standing a few feet away, your silhouette framed by the dying light. I see the hurt in your eyes—the same hurt I put there, over and over, like a wound I keep reopening. I take a long drag from the bottle, then let it fall, shattering at my feet. "You shouldn't have stayed," I mutter, my voice…