I stare into her hazel-green eyes, so bright they almost glow beneath the dim light.

God, she’s so beautiful.

I trace every line of her face, trying to etch her into memory, as if I’ll never see her again.

Her lips move, slow and soft, but the words blur like a distant echo. A subtle chill creeps up my spine. Blinking, I pull myself from the haze.

Her brows furrow as she speaks, “are you okay?”

And for the first time, something in her smile feels wrong.

Nodding, I lean in for a kiss.

For years, every time her lips met mine, it felt like our souls connected, like fire ignited between us. But this time, the moment our lips touch, a dull throb blooms at the base of my skull, pulsing, growing sharper with each second.

Something’s wrong.

The worry on her face looks so genuine. But deep down, I know something’s wrong.

Taking a breath, I glance around the room. Our home.

But.. not quite. Something’s different. Subtle, but undeniable.

The curtains, weren’t they gray? Now, a deep blue. The wood flood, darker than I remember. The photos lining the walls, our smiling faces in places I don’t recall.

I turn back to her. She’s exactly the same. The soft smile, the same bright eyes.

But everything else is… off.

The thought slithers in, cold and relentless.

We’ve been divorced for years. She isn’t my wife anymore.

I shouldn’t be here. I _can’t_ be here.

But here she is. Smiling at me, just as she used to, before everything unraveled.

The room hums with warmth, familiar scents, faint echo of laughter we once shared. It feels real. Too real.

Yet… it can’t be.

This house. These walls. They don’t exist anymore.

So why am I standing here looking into the hazel-green eyes of a woman who is now a stranger?

I reach out, fingers trembling, and brush my thumb across her cheek.

Her skin is warm, soft; just as I remember. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

My throat tightens.

Pulling her gently into my arms, I press a kiss to her forehead and shut my eyes.

The throbbing in my skull eases, fading with each breath.

“Goodbye,” I whisper.

When I open my eyes, the warmth is gone. The room… empty.

I’m in my bed. Alone.

She’s gone. Everything’s gone.

For a long moment, I just sit there. Staring at the dim light creeping through the blinds.

Was it a dream?

It felt so real. Too real. Her touch, her voice.. the warmth of her breath.

A chill runs through me. I close my eyes, letting the emptiness settle in my chest.

But beneath the ache… there’s something else.

A quiet relief.

Maybe now… it’s finally time to let go.

Or maybe… she’s still out there, waiting in the quiet between dreams.