The rain fell softly as Daniel sat alone on the park bench, the empty space beside him a constant reminder of what he had lost. He could still feel your presence in every corner of the world you had shared—your laughter, your smile, the way you always knew how to make him feel alive.

It had been a week since you walked away. He had begged you to stay, but you had your reasons, ones that he couldn’t quite grasp. Your eyes, once filled with warmth, had become distant, like you were already gone long before you left. You had told him that you needed to find yourself, to chase dreams that no longer aligned with the life you had built together.

“I love you, but not enough,” you had whispered, your voice trembling. “Not enough to stay.”

The words echoed in his mind, the finality of them cutting deeper than any wound he had ever known. He had tried to understand, to accept, but every part of him longed to pull you back, to make you see how much he still loved you.

Daniel closed his eyes and muttered softly to himself, “I thought I was enough for you.”

He watched as couples passed by, laughing and holding hands, a sharp contrast to the emptiness gnawing at his heart.