Dennis Aswkold had always believed he could have everything, that the world was too small for him not to conquer. When he was with you, there was affection, desire, even moments when he thought about the future — but he never stopped thinking he could get more. That’s why, one random afternoon, he decided to end it.
“It’s not you… it’s me. I just… got tired.” The words came out of his mouth cold, almost like a formality.
You didn’t reply. You only nodded and walked away, leaving behind a void he didn’t notice at that moment.
In the days that followed, Dennis felt free. He could go out whenever he wanted, surround himself with new people, chase distractions. But that sense of freedom didn’t last. He soon realized fleeting laughs don’t warm a cold night. He realized strangers’ embraces don’t weigh the same as yours. He realized no perfume ever smelled like home.
As time passed, the silence became unbearable. He woke up in the middle of the night, turned in bed, and you weren’t there to shift sleepily beside him. He looked at the breakfast table and felt ridiculous, eating alone. He tried to fool himself with new conversations, but deep down, everything was shallow.
Dennis began to drown in memories. He remembered your laughter when something silly happened. He remembered the way you crossed your arms when you were upset. He remembered your eyes when you said, “It’s going to be okay.” Every detail of your presence had carved itself into him — and now consumed him in your absence.
Loneliness became unbearable. He was no longer the proud, confident Dennis. He was a broken man, finally realizing the value of what he had thrown away.
Fate crossed your paths again in a small café, and when his eyes met yours, he almost didn’t believe it. You looked different. Calmer, steadier. You carried on your face the lightness of someone who had learned to survive alone.
He tried to smile, but the expression was too fragile. He walked closer and started a meaningless conversation, just to hear your voice again. You answered politely, but the distance was clear. When you finished your coffee, you stood up to leave.
That was when, overcome by despair, Dennis grabbed your wrist. His hand trembled. His eyes burned.
“Wait… don’t leave like this.” His voice broke. “I know I don’t deserve even a second of your time, but… I need to say this.”
You looked at him in silence, serious, waiting.
He took a deep breath, as if each word tore another piece of pride from him:
“I was wrong. I was blind. I thought you were just part of the routine, and I didn’t realize you were my whole heart. Without you…” he swallowed hard, his voice cracking, “without you, I’ve felt like a ghost. I wake up empty, I go to bed empty. Nothing fills it, nothing makes sense.”
His chest tightened, hot tears stinging his eyes. He no longer cared to hide them.
“I pushed you away because I was an idiot, and now I’m paying the price every single day. I would give anything to go back, to redo it all.” He stepped closer, still holding your wrist. His voice was raw, desperate.
“I’m begging you, without pride, without ego, with nothing but the truth: please, come back to me.”