I wish I never met her.

The thought echoed in my mind as I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall where Annalise's laughter once danced like sunlight. It was a stark reminder of the joy that had colored my world, now replaced by shadows of regret.

Her name was Annalise. She had a way of lighting up even the darkest days with her infectious smile and boundless optimism. With sparkling eyes that hold endless stories, she sees beauty in the ordinary. Her kindness knows no bounds, and her passion for life inspires everyone around her. She has an uncanny ability to make every moment feel magical, whether it’s a quiet evening or an adventure under the stars. With her, love feels effortless We met in the most unremarkable way—two strangers reaching for the last cupcake at a coffee shop. Our hands brushed, and we both laughed, the moment sparking a connection that felt both electric and inevitable.

Our first date was a whirlwind of shared dreams and soft glances. We talked for hours, losing ourselves in a world where nothing else mattered. I remember how her eyes sparkled when she spoke about her passion for photography, how she dreamt of capturing the beauty of the world and sharing it with others. I was captivated, not just by her beauty but by the warmth that radiated from her spirit.

As the months passed, we became inseparable. Annalise was my muse, my soul, and my one and only. We spent lazy afternoons in the park, sharing secrets and stealing kisses beneath the cherry blossoms. I was convinced I had found my forever in her. But fate has other plans.

It was a typical Tuesday when I got the call. The nurse’s voice was cold, informing me that Annalise had been in an accident. I remember the world spinning as I rushed to the emergency room, praying for a miracle. But miracles don’t always come, and sometimes hope is just a cruel joke.

I stood in the sterile hallway, heart pounding, my mind racing with memories of her laughter. When the doctor finally emerged, his expression was grave. “I’m sorry,” he said, and my world crumbled. Annalise was gone. Just like that.

The days that followed were a haze of grief. I wandered through life like a ghost, haunted by memories that felt more like curses than blessings. Her empty chair at the coffee shop, the half-finished photo album she had left on her desk, and the silence that filled my apartment were constant reminders of what I had lost.

I tried to find peace in the things we once shared, but they only deepened the ache in my chest. Every song we loved felt like a dagger, every sunset a reminder that she would never see another. I was trapped in a cycle of sorrow, unable to escape the weight of my loss.

One night, as I rummaged through her old things, I found a letter addressed to me, written before the accident. My hands trembled as I opened it, and her familiar handwriting brought tears to my eyes.

“Dear Zephyr,

If you’re reading this, it means I’m not with you anymore. I want you to know that you were the best part of my life. You showed me what love truly is, and I am forever grateful for every moment we shared. Please don’t let my absence shatter your spirit. Live for both of us, and find joy in the little things, just like we always did.

I love you, always.

—Annalise”

The tears flowed freely as I read her words, each line cutting deeper than the last. How could she be so selfless, even in her final moments? In that instant, I realized that she had wanted me to move on, to find happiness again. But how could I?

Days turned into weeks, I began to understand what she meant. and though the pain never fully subsided, I started taking photographs again, pouring my grief into the lens. Each click was a tribute to her, a way to keep her spirit alive. I captured the cherry blossoms, the sunsets we had admired together, and the laughter that echoed in the corners of my heart.

One evening, as I stood before a nearly finished photo series, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. It was as if Annalise was there, guiding my eye, reminding me of the beauty that still existed in the world. I began to share my work, and slowly, I found a community of people who resonated with my art. It was healing, a way to honor her memory while also embracing life.

Yet, even as I found solace in my photography, a part of me remained broken. I missed her fiercely—the small things, like her quirky jokes and the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her dreams. The ache was a constant companion, a reminder of a love that felt too powerful to ever fade.

Years passed, and while I learned to live with the grief, I often found myself reflecting on that fateful day. I wished I never met her, not because I regretted our love, but because the pain of losing her was so profound. But deep down, I knew that the moments we shared were worth every tear that fell.

One stormy night, as I stood by the window, watching the rain pour down like a curtain between me and the world, I realized something important. Love, even when it leads to heartbreak, is a gift. Annalise had shown me what it meant to truly live, to embrace every moment with open arms.

I wiped away my tears, feeling a sense of resolve wash over me. I would carry her memory with me, not as a burden but as a source of strength. I would photograph, I would love, and I would live—because that’s what she would have wanted.

As the storm subsided, I picked up my camera, ready to create something beautiful. In that moment, I understood that while I wished I never met her, I was grateful for the love we had shared. It was a love that transcended loss, a bond that could never truly be broken.

And with each click of the shutter, I felt her presence beside me, whispering encouragement and reminding me that life, in all its chaos, is still a canvas waiting to be filled with color.