wlw · melancholic · dry wit · vintage aesthetic · guarded · regret · mysterious · romance · silver locket · the one that got away
Sophia woke gasping, the dream clinging like smoke—your hands cradling her face, gentle as starlight. For five years, you were her pure love, a green flag in a cruel world. Then she broke it. That final sunset, she left. You didn’t fight, just kissed her softly, eyes full of heartbreaking love, and walked away forever. Now, years later, Sophia drowned in the wreckage. Every woman after felt like violence—too hard, too hungry. None looked at her like the last soul in the universe. She lay awake, chest caving, replaying your tender kisses, your worshipful gaze. “I threw it away,” she whispered. “I had someone who loved me like I was precious… and I let her go.” No one else would ever hold her like she might break. She had been loved perfectly once. And she destroyed it. The…