Not Without You

As I stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below, I thought of you.

Long, wavy brown hair with that reddish tint that only appeared in sunlight. Sincere brown eyes that always knew how I was feeling before I even spoke. Freckled pale skin. Stretch marks that lined your back like faded lightning. That smile.

God, that fucking smile.

It was always impossible to stay angry at you after you smiled at me. Even now, after everything, I could still picture it perfectly.

A large wave crashed against the jagged rocks below, spraying white foam high into the air and pulling me back to the present moment. The ocean roared beneath me like an animal starved for something to consume.

Maybe me.

The wind whipped violently around my body, tugging at the long white veil pinned into my hair. The dress I wore billowed around my legs, soft and ghostlike against the dark cliffside. Months ago, you were supposed to see me in this dress for the first time while standing at the end of an aisle.

Now you would see it in death instead.

I looked down at the bouquet in my trembling hands. Dead roses. Brittle petals the color of dried blood. They had been the last flowers you ever gave me.

I remembered how embarrassed you’d looked standing on my porch with them hidden behind your back.

“I know they’re cliché,” you’d laughed nervously, “but every pretty girl deserves roses at least once.”

I had rolled my eyes and teased you for sounding like something out of an old eighties romance movie. You only grinned wider before kissing my forehead.

“I remember…” I whispered aloud, my voice nearly stolen by the wind.

I remembered everything.

The way you smelled like sandalwood and laundry detergent after work. The way your rough hands always found mine during thunderstorms because you knew I hated them. The way you danced terribly in the kitchen to make me laugh when I was upset.

And I remembered the phone call.

The scream that ripped from my throat when they told me your truck had wrapped around a guardrail on the highway during the rainstorm.

Instant death, they’d said.

Like those words were supposed to comfort me.

The ocean churned violently beneath the cliff.

I lingered there longer than I should have. Maybe some small part of me still hoped someone would stop me. A stranger. God. You.

But no one came.

The world had continued moving after you died, and I hated it for that.

People still laughed in grocery stores. Children still played in parks. My neighbors still watered their flowers every morning while I sat in our apartment staring at your boots by the door because I couldn’t bear to move them.

Everyone kept telling me grief got easier.

They lied.

Grief didn’t get easier. It hollowed you out slowly until you became a shell that only knew how to remember.

I turned around carefully so my back faced the cliff.

The wind howled harder, almost angrily now, whipping strands of hair across my face. My fingers tightened around the bouquet hard enough for the thorns to pierce my skin. Thin trails of blood slid down my wrists and disappeared into the white fabric of my sleeves.

I looked toward the sky one last time.

It was beautiful.

Blue stretched endlessly overhead while streaks of gold sunlight broke through the clouds. Seagulls drifted across the horizon, free and careless. For a brief moment, the world looked so painfully alive that doubt clawed its way into my chest.

I thought about turning around.

I thought about going home.

But home didn’t exist anymore.

Not without you.

So I lifted one white-slippered foot off the ground.

And it was enough.

The earth vanished beneath me instantly.

My stomach lurched violently as gravity seized my body and dragged me downward. My veil snapped wildly in the air behind me like torn wings. The bouquet remained clenched in my hands as the ocean rushed toward me impossibly fast.

I kept my eyes fixed on the sky above.

The last thing I wanted to see was something beautiful.

Tears streamed into my hairline as the wind screamed past my ears. Terror surged through me all at once — raw and animalistic. Every instinct in my body suddenly begged me to survive.

I didn’t want to die.

Not really.

I just didn’t know how to live without you.

Then the rocks came.

Pain exploded through my body in one blinding instant before the ocean swallowed me whole.

The water was freezing.

It crashed over me violently, dragging me deeper beneath the surface. Salt burned my nose and throat as darkness blurred around me. Somewhere far above, sunlight shimmered weakly through the water like fractured glass.

I tried to move.

Nothing happened.

My body felt broken, heavy, distant.

Now paralyzed, all I could do was wait for my lungs to fill with water.

Wait to die.

Panic clawed through me as my chest tightened desperately for air. I opened my mouth accidentally, and seawater flooded in, burning all the way down.

Then suddenly—

Arms wrapped around me.

Strong. Familiar.

His long arms pulled me tightly against him as if he feared I would drift away. He smelled like seawater and sandalwood.

You.

A sob escaped me beneath the water.

I struggled weakly, but he only held me tighter, one hand cradling the back of my head gently. Even underwater, I could feel warmth radiating from him.

My vision blurred.

Darkness crept into the corners of my sight.

But then I saw it.

His smile.

Soft at first, glowing faintly through the deep water like moonlight. Then brighter. Warmer. It illuminated the darkness surrounding us until it became the only thing I could see.

It always had a way of brightening everything.

His fingers brushed against my cheek lovingly before sliding through my hair the way they used to when we lay in bed together on quiet Sunday mornings.

The pressure in my lungs suddenly released.

My body stopped fighting.

Stopped hurting.

Stopped sinking.

Light erupted around me.

Harsh. White. Endless.

I gasped sharply as my eyes flew open.

The ocean was gone.

The pain was gone.

I sat upright on soft grass, breathing hard. My body was whole again. My dress was untouched — no blood, no seawater, no torn fabric. The bouquet of dead roses had vanished from my hands entirely.

Everything around me glowed golden beneath warm sunlight.

Tall fields swayed gently in the breeze around me. Wildflowers stretched endlessly toward the horizon. Somewhere nearby, I could hear wind chimes tinkling softly.

And then I saw him.

A tall figure was walking toward me through the field.

Thrifted Levi jeans. Cowboy boots. His favorite worn-in western shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms.

And in his hands, he held the most beautiful bouquet of red roses I had ever seen.

My breath caught painfully in my throat.

He stopped a few feet away from me, smiling that same beautiful smile that once made every bad day survivable.

“You made it,” he said softly.

I had never run so fast in my life.

I threw myself into his arms, and he caught me instantly, laughing breathlessly as we nearly fell backward into the flowers. His arms wrapped around me tightly, safely, like they were always meant to.

Tears spilled endlessly down my face as I buried myself against his chest.

He was warm.

Real.

Alive.

Or maybe I was finally dead, too.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered through a broken smile.

He pressed a kiss against my forehead gently before pulling back just enough to look at me.

“I know,” he said softly. “I missed you, too.”