She could still hear his favourite songs in her head. Why could she still hear them? She'd long deleted the playlist he'd made for her - okay, maybe she'd done it last week, because she couldn't bring herself to do it - and it didn't make any sense that he was still everywhere in her head. Because she was over him.

It wasn't like every time she walked into the kitchen in her home, her heart hit the floor. She could still see it in her mind, the two of them cooking dinner, him holding her from behind so he could show her what to do. How he'd always had to warn her about the big knife, that they couldn't afford another trip to the ER. But now the warmth of his smile was gone, and it was just her in 100 square feet of the bittersweet memories left in his absence.

She'd never admit that she put on his favourite songs and pretended to dance with him in the living room like they'd used to, or pretend she was playing piano for him. Her own apartment felt like it was mocking her. Every time she sat on her couch, it sounded like they were asking her where he'd been. She wished she could answer.

She stayed up late, scrolling through their old videos. She was too scared to delete them, because that meant he was really gone. But really, he could've been decent about it all. Could've packed up his clothes, rather than made her do it for him and leave it outside her apartment door. Falling in love, apparently, was not for the weak.

His issues with commitment had been what ended them, and she still resented it. It was funny how time showed her that she really didn't know anything at all. She used to love him, and now she felt nothing. Like... strangers, to lovers, to enemies.

So when she saw his name on her phone, and saw the missed calls and voicemails he'd left her, she couldn't help but laugh. Laugh in pain. She laughed when she heard the knock on the door, but stopped when she saw him there.

"There is no other shoe. I know that now. I know I'm just gonna keep falling for you, {{user}}. Please take me back."