Chapter 32 - Adrian

I sat at the long table, my hands clenched tightly around the edge, as if holding on to something stable in a world that felt like it was falling apart. The meeting carried on around me, voices blending together in a dull hum, but I couldn't focus. I couldn't hear them, couldn't even process the words they were saying. My mind was elsewhere—somewhere far away, tangled in the memories of her.

Her absence weighed on me like a physical presence, an anchor pulling me deeper into a sea of regret and longing. I kept glancing at the door, even though I knew she wouldn't walk through it. Every time my eyes landed on that spot, I was haunted by the image of her standing there, smiling at me with that warmth I now craved more than anything.

It was the way she moved, the way she had a presence without even trying. I could almost feel the air shift when she was near. And now... nothing. Only the cold emptiness in her place, echoing through the room.

I felt the chair beneath me creak as I shifted, but I couldn't shake the heaviness in my chest. I used to hate the silence, the quiet that stretched between us when we weren't speaking, but now it was deafening. The absence of her voice, her laughter, her soft touches... it was a void I didn't know how to fill.

The side of the bed next to me—empty. I reached for it absentmindedly, as if expecting her to be there, but it was always just cold sheets. Her perfume was still faintly in the air, a cruel reminder of what I had lost, of what I had let slip through my fingers.

I closed my eyes for a brief second, trying to push through the fog of emotion that clouded my mind, but it was useless. I had never been good at pretending things didn't hurt, at pushing down feelings that gnawed at me like this. And now, with her gone, I didn't know how to escape this suffocating emptiness.

The papers on the table in front of me seemed so trivial in comparison to what I was feeling inside. I could sign them, go through the motions, but I wasn't really there. The world could keep spinning, the business could keep going, but none of it mattered without her.

My hands trembled slightly as I tried to focus on the words in front of me, but I couldn't. The only thing I could think about was her—how she used to brighten even the darkest of my days, how the sound of her voice could calm me, how everything felt right when she was with me.

But now? Now, it felt like I was drowning, and no matter how hard I tried to swim, the water kept pulling me deeper.

It was a feeling I hadn't known before—this sharp ache of loss, of regret. A pain that cut deeper than anything physical. I couldn't make sense of it, couldn't understand why I hadn't held on tighter, why I hadn't told her everything I should have.

The silence between us was now a wound I could never heal, and the weight of it was suffocating me. I ran a hand through my hair, my chest tight with emotions I didn't know how to express, didn't know how to fix.

She was gone. And nothing—no meeting, no deal, no distraction—was ever going to bring her back.

I sat at the dining table, the silence around me almost suffocating. Her loud laughter, the kind that filled the room with warmth and joy, was missing. The absence of it hit me harder than I ever imagined it would. It used to be the soundtrack of my days—the sound of her happiness, of us being together in the simplest of moments. But now? Now, it was just empty air.

The chair across from me—her chair—sat unoccupied, and my gaze kept drifting to it, as if I could will her to appear there, to smile at me, to fill the space with her presence again. But it stayed still, unmoving, like everything else in my life now. My heart ached with the emptiness, a pain that seemed to come from deep within, a place I didn't know existed until now.

I ran a hand through my hair, my fingers trembling slightly as I tried to focus on the food in front of me. It was cold now, untouched. She always made me eat when I didn't want to, always insisted on sharing moments like this. But now, with the absence of her, the food felt like nothing but a reminder of what I'd lost.

Her smile, her jokes, the way she'd look at me when she was teasing me—everything I took for granted was gone. I closed my eyes for a moment, but even in the darkness, I could still see her face, hear her voice. It was as if my mind was taunting me with fragments of a life I no longer had.

My heart pained with every beat, as if it, too, was mourning her loss. I should've done better, should've held on tighter when I had the chance. But now, the regret weighed heavier than the ache. I missed her in ways that words couldn't capture. I missed her so much it hurt, deep down in the places I thought were safe, in the corners of my soul that no one ever saw.

I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, but I couldn't sit there any longer. The silence was too much. The emptiness too overwhelming. I walked to the window, staring out at the world that seemed to move on without me. People went about their lives, celebrating, laughing, and living. And here I was, drowning in my own guilt, my own sorrow, wondering how the hell I had let this happen.

I thought I could handle everything, that I could push through the pain. But without her, I didn't know how. Her absence had hollowed me out in ways I couldn't explain, and every minute without her was another minute spent in agony.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the ache in my chest wouldn't subside. It was a constant reminder of everything I had lost, and every second that passed without her felt like a lifetime of regret. I missed her. I missed us.

And I knew, deep down, I might never get her back.

I sat at my desk, my fingers dragging across the edge of the drawer as I pulled it open. The clutter was out of place—papers thrown in carelessly, pens rolling around—an uncharacteristic mess that mirrored the storm inside me. I was just trying to distract myself, to drown the ache by drowning in work, but nothing was helping.

And then I saw it.

It wasn't much, just a glint of silver among the chaos. Her bracelet.

I froze, my hand hovering over it as if touching it would burn me. The small charm bracelet she always wore, the one that jingled softly whenever she moved, lay there like a ghost of her presence. I picked it up carefully, like it was fragile, like it could shatter if I held it too tightly.

The moment I felt its weight in my palm, everything broke.

My chest tightened, and the pain that I had been holding back came rushing out. Her laughter, her teasing remarks, the way she used to lean on the edge of this very desk while making some sarcastic comment—all of it came flooding back, suffocating me.

I clutched the bracelet against my chest as my shoulders shook. The emptiness of the room around me only made it worse, the silence mocking me. I tried to hold it in, but the tears spilled over, hot and relentless.

I had done this. I had pushed her away.

"Seraphina..." Her name slipped from my lips like a prayer, broken and desperate. The weight of my decisions crushed me, making it hard to breathe. I couldn't stop the sobs now; they tore out of me, raw and unfiltered.

How could something so small hurt so much?

I stared at the bracelet, the tiny charms catching the light—a reminder of all the little pieces of her that I'd lost. She was everywhere and nowhere, haunting me in the quiet moments, in the things she'd left behind.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into the empty room, my voice trembling. But there was no one to hear it. No one to forgive me.

I sat there for what felt like hours, the bracelet clutched in my hand, as if holding onto it could bring her back. But it couldn't. Nothing could. I had broken something that could never be fixed. And now, I was left with nothing but memories and regret.

My heart was crying, shattering with every passing moment, as if each beat echoed with the weight of my mistakes. New Year was near, a time of celebration and hope for many, but for me, it was a cruel reminder of the love I had lost. Joy spread everywhere—the streets were adorned with glittering lights, people filled the bar with loud laughter, clinking glasses, and cheers for the coming year. Yet, amidst all this merriment, I sat alone at the corner of the bar, drowning myself in whiskey, trying in vain to numb the relentless ache in my chest.

Each sip burned my throat, but it couldn't burn away the guilt gnawing at my soul. No work interested me anymore; nothing could pull me out of this abyss I had created for myself. I couldn't focus, couldn't think, couldn't breathe without her presence haunting me. Her laughter, her warmth, her scent—it all lingered like ghosts, refusing to leave me in peace.

Guilt was eating me alive, tearing at my insides like a beast unleashed. I could have done things differently. I should have. I had a choice. I could have asked her. I could have swallowed my insecurities and asked her the one question that mattered—Do you love me too? But I didn't.

Instead, I let my ego take the wheel, let my insecurities drown out the truth I knew in my heart. I convinced myself that I wasn't enough for her, that her silence was rejection, and I turned my love into a weapon against myself. I pushed her away, thinking it would protect me, but all it did was leave me standing in the ruins of my own making.

The world around me blurred as I stared into the amber liquid in my glass, its surface rippling like the chaos inside me. I saw her reflection in it—her soft smile, the sparkle in her eyes when she used to look at me. My grip on the glass tightened as the image faded, replaced by the harsh reality of her absence.

Regret weighed heavily on me, suffocating and relentless. I had everything in my hands—her love, her presence, her trust—and I let it slip away. My pride, my fears, my insecurities became the chains that bound me, holding me back from reaching out to her.

Tonight, the bar was full of people celebrating, hopeful for the promises of an upcoming new year. But here I was, a man with nothing but regret, clutching an empty glass as if it could fill the void in my soul. My shattered heart bled with the memories of her, with the knowledge that I had lost the one person who made life worth living.

I buried my face in my hands, letting the muffled sobs escape me. It was too late now. She was gone, and all I had left were the what-ifs that haunted me. What if I had told her how I felt? What if I had held onto her instead of letting her go? What if I had fought for her instead of letting my fears win?

The bartender placed another drink in front of me, but I couldn't bring myself to pick it up. Even whiskey couldn't drown the pain anymore. My love for her wasn't something I could escape from, no matter how much I tried. It was embedded in every fiber of my being, and now, it felt like a curse.