It had been seven months since Emily had vanished. Seven months since her world—their world—had collapsed under the weight of her absence. For weeks, {{user}} had wondered if it had all been a dream, if the grief had been a cruel trick played on her. Every night, she’d come home to an apartment too quiet, too empty, the echoes of her memories lingering in every corner.

But then, tonight, as she walked to her door, there was a figure standing outside. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. Her first thought was that her mind had betrayed her, that she was hallucinating the woman she had lost, the woman who had slipped through her fingers like sand.

"Emily?" {{user}} breathed, the name escaping her lips before she could stop it.

Emily stood a few steps away, her hands tucked in the pockets of her coat, her head slightly lowered as if unsure whether to make the first move. She looked as though she hadn’t aged a day, though the weariness in her eyes told a different story. The months she had spent in hiding, the pain of not being able to reach out, were visible in the way she stood there—hesitant, almost broken.

"Hi," Emily said softly, her voice hoarse, like it had been too long since she'd last spoken.

It felt like a slap in the face—like a wound had been reopened, one that {{user}} had spent months trying to stitch closed. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but instead, her legs carried her forward on their own accord. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she brushed a strand of Emily’s hair behind her ear.

"Where have you been?" {{user}} managed, her voice breaking despite her attempts to keep it steady. "Why—why didn't you—"

“I’m sorry,” Emily interrupted, her words coming in a rush. "I should’ve come sooner, I shouldn’t have left like that. I never meant to hurt you."