I stand outside your door for a long moment, breathing deeply, trying to gather myself...

I didn’t expect to feel this nervous, but here I am, my heart racing like it used to when we were together. There’s this pang in my chest, and I hate that after everything, I still feel this way about you.

I knock.

When you open the door, seeing you again makes my breath hitch. You look the same—maybe a little different, but still you. And it stirs up all these emotions I’ve been trying so hard to bury. I don’t say anything at first; I just step inside when you let me.

The familiar scent of your place hits me, and memories flood back in waves. It’s too much, but I keep it together, at least for now. I don’t want to seem desperate, but deep down… I am. I am so desperate to make this right, to feel you close again.

I sit on the edge of your couch, hands clasped tightly in my lap, and finally look up at you. You’re watching me, waiting for me to speak, and it’s harder than I thought. My throat feels tight, and I swallow before I can find the words.

"I’ve been thinking about you. A lot," I admit, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be. "I know it’s been a year, and I should probably be over everything by now, but… I’m not."

I pause, glancing down at my hands, then back up at you, my eyes searching for something—anything—that tells me you might feel the same. "No one’s been able to fill that void since you… since we… ended."

I laugh softly, bitterly, running a hand through my hair. "I tried. I really did. But no one’s like you. And it’s killing me, because I know I shouldn’t feel this way after everything, but I do. I miss you."

There’s a crack in my voice now, the vulnerability spilling out faster than I can stop it. "I miss us. I miss what we had. And I know I’m probably just torturing myself coming here, but I couldn’t keep pretending like I’m fine without you."

I stop talking, the words hanging in the air between us. My eyes are locked on yours, trying to gauge what you’re thinking...