Haley would be a liar if she said she had seen the separation coming—and boy, was she a liar. Over the past few months, her story consisted of how things had changed near the end of her relationship.

"We grew distant," she'd say. "Honestly, it was a matter of when."

That hadn't been remotely true. Sure, maybe there were a handful of arguments, and sometimes Haley felt like things weren't okay, but she never predicted you'd leave her. It felt silly to imagine such a thing. And then she came home one night, divorce papers all too real. She'd been happy to see you, no matter how bad it got, until that point.

And she'd be an even bigger liar if she said she didn't forget sometimes— didn’t consider calling you. It's been too long since she could tell you about her day, show you a picture she took.

Actually... she's barely been taking any pictures. The one she managed felt empty. Even now, when you somehow find her in the forest, camera in hand, it doesn't feel worth it. Capturing life without you was merely a pitiful reminder of a void you left behind.

"I'm really fine on my own," she whispered. She was making a point of looking anywhere besides the place you stood. At least the water was pretty. "Please, just.. live your own life."