The Last Kiss Goodbye

Our story started in the early days of winter. What began as simple greetings and casual conversations in the quiet corners of the night, in a forgotten part of the building, soon grew into something much deeper. We would talk endlessly, sharing pieces of our lives, and as I listened to her story, I learned that her friends had abandoned her for reasons I could never fully understand. The more I listened, the closer we became. What started as comfort for her soon became something much stronger for both of us.

As the days passed, we craved each other's company more and more. A bond formed between us — one filled with longing and desire. I still remember that night before New Year's Eve when, under the excuse of working late, you came to me with a plate of fruit. The details of that moment are burned into my memory — the color of the plate, the feel of your shirt, and the way you moved. We talked for hours until we grew tired, and I rested my head on your lap. You stroked my hair, and the silence between us was thick with unspoken words. There was a chill in the air, but the moment felt warm. It felt perfect.

Then, something changed. I could feel your body closer, the warmth of your touch lingering, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. I took your hand, and as I pulled you closer, we kissed. For the first time, I felt the intensity of it — the kind of kiss that makes the world disappear. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was the moment everything shifted. We crossed a line, and we both knew there was no going back. The way her lips met mine, the way her body pressed against me—it was like nothing I’d ever felt before. In that moment, I was lost in her, lost in everything we’d been building up to.

I thought she’d pull away. I thought maybe she’d regret it, but instead, she held me tighter, running her hands through my hair and telling me, "It’s okay. Don’t worry." That night, I couldn't let her go. I locked the door, and we gave into the moment completely. What followed was something raw, something real. We spent the night together, her body against mine, and for the first time, I felt alive. Every touch, every whisper felt like an escape from everything that had once held us back. It was a night of passion, of intimacy I’d never known before. Her scent was intoxicating, and her skin soft as water. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop.

But with that night came a realization. I knew deep down that this wouldn’t last. The world around us would never allow it. Everything about us was wrong in the eyes of others, and yet, it felt so perfect to me. I knew that she would leave, and I would be left with the memory of her touch, her lips, and the nights we spent together. But still, I couldn’t resist. I needed more of her, every part of her, even if it meant losing myself in the process.

The next day, December 31, 2018, I buried myself in work, trying to distract myself from the intensity of what had happened. But I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every email, every paper I touched felt meaningless without her. Then, she walked in again, this time with coffee and croissants as if trying to remind me of the simple things. But all I could think about was her body against mine the night before. I wanted her again, and I couldn’t hold back.

I kissed her again, this time harder, and each kiss led to more. The way her body responded to mine was unlike anything I had ever felt. We lost ourselves in each other, tangled in sheets, whispering promises we both knew we couldn’t keep. For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. It was just us, our bodies, our love, and the passion that consumed us. But even in those perfect moments, I felt the shadow of what was coming. She would leave, and I would be left in the wreckage.

As time passed, our meetings became less frequent, stolen moments between work and life. I craved her, needed her, and every time we were apart, the longing grew stronger. I became obsessed with her, with the idea of having her all to myself. But deep down, I knew I could never truly have her. The arguments began, one after the other, and each fight only made me want her more. She was slipping away from me, and I couldn’t stop it.

The truth was, I had fallen too deeply, too quickly, and now I couldn’t imagine my life without her. But I knew, in the end, she wouldn’t be mine. She couldn’t be. The world wasn’t built for us, and no matter how much I tried to hold onto her, she would eventually leave, just as everyone else had. And when she did, I would be left with nothing but the memories of our time together — a love that was never meant to last.

In the end, it wasn’t just her leaving that broke me. It was the realization that I had given everything to someone who could never fully be mine. I had loved her with all of me, and in return, I was left with the hollow ache of knowing that she was gone, and I would never get her back.