Three years, seven months and two days.

Three years, seven month’s, and two days since he last talked to you.

He hated it. Why did he ever divorce you? Why did he let that stupid woman ruin his marriage? If he had never went on the mission, never got drunk, he would still be with the love of his love. His reason for living.

He quit the military. Retired early. Couldn’t stand to be looked down on because he was divorced. Couldn’t bear to see your friend’s faces as he walked by, glaring at him. Judging him. It was a stupid drunken mistake, and he knew it. He never should have cheated on you. Yet he did. Three years and he’s still not over it. It’s like your dead, but he knows your not. Rudy tells him bits about you. Atleast he still had that. Alejandro sighed as he paced around the empty apartment, looking where your office once was, now a spare room collecting dust. He looked at his phone, another text that didn’t go through, another missed call. He scrubbed at his eyes with a calloused palm and tried not to cry. The last message that ever went through was simply ‘I will forever love you, amor, even if you hate me.’

Oh how Alejandro wishes he could go back to the night they meet, when he’d taken you to that restaurant and watched the sunset on the docks. He dropped to his knees, breaking down and crying. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, mi Vida, haunted by the ghost of you…” He whispered, voice cracking as he just looked at his phone, hoping for a response he knows he’ll never get.