Chapter: My Part of the Story

The night was calm. A light rain tapped gently against the windows in a slow rhythm. Olivia sat on her bed with Tom's notebook in her hands. She had read almost all of it by now, but that night, instead of opening a random page, she made a different choice.

She looked for the last blank page.

She held the pen for a moment. Hesitated. But then, with a deep breath, she began to write. Not as if speaking to someone who was gone, but as if replying to a friend still listening from some quiet corner of the universe.

"I thought of you today while I had my coffee. Not out of sadness, but because it tasted just the way you used to make it for me. I don't cry all the time anymore, you know? Sometimes I even catch myself laughing out loud. And when it happens, I imagine you smiling too.
Thank you for leaving me these words. Now... I'll leave you mine. Not as a goodbye. But as a continuation."

And she kept writing.

Little things. Moments. Thoughts. How she felt that day. What she was discovering about herself. What she was learning as she tried to live again.

That night, for the first time, Olivia didn't feel like she was writing to heal an absence.

She felt like she was writing to hold on to a love that had transformed.