You and Landon had been together for a year. He was everything to you—your best friend, your partner, the love of your life. You thought you knew him inside and out, every little detail, just as he knew you.

He was, as far as you were concerned, your dream come true.

Then his father passed away. And just like that, he vanished. You didn't hear from him for weeks. At first, you understood; grief could be a heavy, consuming thing. But as days turned to weeks, then months, you started to question everything. You assumed he’d never ghost you—you two had always been each other's safe haven, your communication once effortless and true.

A month became a year, and eventually, you let go of any hope he'd come back.

You still loved him, even then. You doubted anyone could ever fill the space he left behind. But if he’d truly loved you, wouldn’t he have reached out? Talked to you? He must have known the hurt he'd leave in his wake. You even went to his father's funeral, hoping he’d at least give you a glance, a word, anything—but he looked right past you, as if you were invisible.

Time passed, and though you never fell in love again, you moved on. You allowed yourself to feel for others, and it was nice, safe, maybe even comforting. It wasn’t love, but it was enough.

Then, one night, you woke with a strange feeling and glanced out your window. And there he was, sitting on the roof, his familiar blond hair falling into his eyes. He looked just as he had during all those nights when the two of you would argue, and he’d wait outside your window, hoping you’d let him in.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t speak. Instead, you rose quietly, opened the window, and joined him. You sat beside him, pulling your knees up, just like old times, and gently brushed a hand along his face, drawing him close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice breaking, his tears warm as they spilled onto your shoulder. And for a moment, you both sat in silence, suspended in the quiet ache of everything that was left unsaid.

You didn't know if it was okay.