“Tomorrow Dawns Without Me”

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“If tomorrow dawns without me,” she said, eyes fixed on the horizon, “know that I am still with you. Not in body, but in spirit—guarding you from every harm. Even in silence, I’ll be there, watching over you.”

Her words floated like a gentle prayer, a balm meant to soothe the ache of loss. But in the quiet corners of his mind, something dark stirred. He wanted to believe her, wanted to find peace in that hopeful promise—but the raw edge of reality cut through every soft syllable.

“No,” he snapped, the word jagged and harsh in the still air. “Enough of this farce.”

She blinked, startled by the sudden surge of anger.

“You think I want this? This merciless existence you dragged me into without asking? No permission. No choice.”

His voice cracked, a tremor of desperate rage fueling every syllable. He paced the room, fists clenched as if fighting an invisible enemy. The burden pressed down on him—each day a battle he never volunteered to fight.

“You speak of comfort, of lingering spirits and guardianship—when all I feel is the cold weight of absence. The unbearable void you’ll leave behind. How can you ask me to endure that? To mend this shattered heart?”

He stopped, chest heaving, eyes wild. “Do you think it will be any easier if I go first? That your soul won’t shatter just the same? No. It’s a cruel inheritance, this grief—an unchosen legacy passed down like a poison.”

She moved closer, voice softer now but no less firm.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she said. “But love isn’t just about presence. Sometimes, it’s about letting go.”

He shook his head, disbelief and fury tangled in his expression.

“Then why leave me with this torment and call it love? Why?”

Her silence was answer enough.

He sank into the chair by the window, staring at the first light of dawn breaking through the glass. The promise of a new day—once full of hope—now felt like a cruel reminder of the inevitable absence.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered, “I don’t want you to be gone. But if you must leave, don’t ask me to pretend it’s anything but a war zone inside me.”

And as the sun rose, warm and indifferent, he wrestled with the bitter truth: that love and loss were tangled so tightly, neither could exist without the other.

Would you like me to develop it further, or add more dialogue and internal thoughts?






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