Where Love Still Bleeds

 …I talk to the moon because she’s all I have left of you. 

I ask her if you’re safe, if you ever think of me. I beg her for answers, but she only listens. She never speaks.

Dear reader,

Today’s story is unlike anything you’ve read before, a gripping tale of love, longing, passion, and betrayal. The twists and turns left me speechless, and I promise, they’ll leave you the same way.

But before we continue…

Chapter 1: Whispers to the Moon

The magazine lay forgotten on the desk, its bold yellow letters screaming Carl Sagan’s words: “We are all made of star-stuff.” 

Coffee stains marred its glossy cover, silent witnesses to countless mornings spent staring into nothingness. 

Beside it, curled edges of old notes sprawled across the wooden surface, surrounding a sleek silver laptop that seemed like an out-of-place relic in a room frozen in time. 

The dusty walls were lined with medals, faded relics of some forgotten glory days. 

Above the desk hung a poster of a shooting star, its colors dimmed by years of sunlight and shadow. This room belonged to someone younger, someone brighter, a version of me I barely recognized.

I lingered by the door, letting the weight of the memories push against my chest. And as always, my thoughts drifted back to you, Morgan. 

No matter how much I try to outrun the past, you’re always there, a ghost lingering in every corner of my mind.

How is it possible to lose everything and still keep breathing? 

The universe must have designed us to collide, to burn so brightly together that we scorched the world around us, only to leave me with the ashes. 

Maybe we were destined to unravel from the start. Or maybe we were too much for this world to handle.

I moved to the window and slid it open. The cool night air brushed my face, carrying the scent of autumn leaves and damp earth.

 I climbed onto the windowsill, the old wood creaking beneath me. Above, the stars shimmered, indifferent to my grief.

You used to tell me the stars were ours, that they watched over us. And I believed you. I believed every word you said, Morgan, because you were my entire universe.

“I just wanted you to know…” The words slipped from my lips, carried away by the wind before I could finish. What was the point? You weren’t here to hear them.

I closed my eyes, the memories crashing over me like waves. The night we met, it felt like stepping into another world. 

A crescent moon hung low in a dark November sky, and there you were. A magnetic force I couldn’t resist, a fire I couldn’t help but touch. 

Your smile had the power to stop time, and when you whispered your name, Morgan, it felt like the stars realigned just for us.

What should have been a warning became my undoing. You were my gravity, my light, and my undoing all at once. I followed you willingly into the unknown, even as I felt it pulling me apart.

And pull me apart, you did.

The night I lost you remains an open wound, raw and unhealed. 

The moon was full, its light casting long shadows across the world, but I didn’t notice. 

All I saw was you, your cold eyes, your clenched jaw, the way your silence shattered me. I fought for us, Morgan. 

I begged you not to walk away, but you did. You turned your back on everything we built, leaving me with nothing but the broken pieces of a love that once burned brighter than the stars.

Now, I talk to the moon because she’s all I have left of you. I ask her if you’re safe, if you ever think of me. I beg her for answers, but she only listens. She never speaks.

Forgiveness is a cruel weight. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for leaving, but the harder truth is, I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for loving you. 

How do you let go of someone who’s wrapped themselves so tightly around your soul? How do you breathe when every breath reminds you of someone who’s gone?

I stared at the stars, the same stars you once claimed were ours. 

They feel distant now, unreachable. But my love for you, Morgan, is infinite. It stretches across time and space, defying reason, defying everything.

I exhaled, my fingers trembling as I traced invisible patterns in the night sky. And then I saw it, a faint shooting star, gone as quickly as it appeared. 

My chest tightened. It’s just a coincidence, I told myself. Just the universe playing tricks on me.

But then I heard it, a knock at the door.

My heart stopped.

No one visits this house. No one.

Another knock, louder this time. My pulse raced as I climbed down from the windowsill. Every step toward the door felt heavier, my breath catching in my throat.

What if it’s you?

Chapter 2: Tangled Shadows

The knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts, each sound louder than the last in the quiet of the house. My pulse quickened as I stood, hesitant, staring at the door.

And then I opened it.

There he was.

Morgan stood on the porch, rain dripping from his dark hair onto his strong jawline. 

His shirt clung to his chest, soaked from the downpour, and his piercing eyes locked onto mine. He was both familiar and distant, like a dream I couldn’t quite wake from.

“Can I come in, Daniella?” His voice was low, steady, but I caught the faint tremor beneath his words.

Without answering, I stepped aside, and he walked in. 

The door clicked shut behind him, trapping us in the same space, the silence between us thick with unspoken words. 

He ran a hand through his wet hair, shaking the water off like he didn’t know where to begin.

“You’re soaked,” I said softly, the words feeling strange on my tongue.

He let out a quiet laugh, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah, it’s pouring out there.”

I stood there, unsure of what to say or do, but he closed the space between us, his presence as magnetic as ever. “Why are you here, Morgan?”

His gaze softened. “Because I had to be. I couldn’t stay away.”

“Why not?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I still love you,” he said, the rawness in his voice cutting through me like a blade.

I turned away, unable to face the intensity of his words. “You left, Morgan. You left me.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “And I’ve hated myself for it every single day.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them away. “Do you think you can just come back and fix everything? It doesn’t work like that.”

“I’m not here to fix things,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m here because I can’t imagine my life without you.”

I wanted to scream, to cry, to push him away, but my body betrayed me. 

The heat of his presence, the way his voice wrapped around my name, it was too much. He reached out, his hand brushing against mine, and a spark shot through me, reigniting the fire I thought I’d extinguished.

“Morgan…” I began, but he silenced me with his gaze.

“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Tell me you don’t still want this.”

I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come.

He stepped closer, his hand cupping my face as his thumb traced the line of my jaw. 

His touch was electric, and when his lips met mine, it was like a dam breaking. 

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, but as my hands gripped his shirt and pulled him closer, it deepened. His arms wrapped around me, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he was afraid I might slip away.

“Daniella,” he whispered against my lips, his voice filled with longing. “I’ve missed you. Every part of you.”

My body trembled as his kisses moved to my neck, each one sending shivers down my spine. 

His hands explored my back, pulling me into him until there was no space left between us. My fingers tangled in his hair, desperate to keep him close, to feel every inch of him.

The heat between us built, an unspoken need that neither of us could deny. 

He lifted me effortlessly, placing me on the edge of the counter. The cool surface beneath me was a stark contrast to the warmth radiating between us.

“Morgan,” I gasped, his name a plea, a warning.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he murmured, his lips trailing down my collarbone.

But just as the moment threatened to consume us, a sharp knock echoed through the house, breaking the spell.

We froze, our breaths heavy in the quiet.

“Were you expecting someone?” Morgan asked, his voice low, laced with tension.

I shook my head, sliding off the counter and smoothing my clothes. My heart raced as I approached the door, Morgan close behind me.

When I opened it, my breath caught in my throat. Standing there, drenched from the rain but very much unbothered, was a figure I hadn’t seen in years.

“Daniella,” they said, their voice steady but cold. “We need to talk.