The rain started around 9 PM. It wasn't a sudden downpour, but a quiet drizzle that matched my mood perfectly. I remember the worn-out brown leather jacket I was wearing, the one you always said smelled like old books and coffee. It was a lie, of course. It just smelled like me. But that night, as I stood on the corner where we first met, it smelled like you.

I saw you from a distance, standing under the dim streetlights, your shoulders slumped. I didn't want to get closer. A few weeks ago, we had decided to end things. It wasn't a fight, just a slow fading. The kind of breakup where you both know it's over, but neither of you wants to admit it out loud. We had a final dinner. I remember the way you held my hand, tracing the lines of my palm as if you were reading a story that was already finished. You looked at me with those eyes, the ones that once held a universe of curiosity and affection, now filled with a quiet, devastating sadness.

I walked past you that night, pretending I didn't see you. But I felt your presence, the ghost of a shared life. I walked home, the rain soaking through my shoes, and the scent of your favorite perfume, jasmine and vanilla, seemed to linger in the wet air. It was a memory, a phantom limb. I remember the number of days since we last spoke—exactly 28. It's funny how you count the small things when the big ones are gone.

28 Days, a Lifetime

It was a rainy Tuesday night. I was twenty-two, working on a late-night project in a small, cozy cafe. The city lights were blurred through the window, painting a surreal picture. That's when I saw you. You were sitting across the room, headphones on, humming softly. Our eyes met for a fleeting second, and in that moment, the world outside just faded away. Your smile was a quiet, warm invitation. We started talking, and the hours flew by. The rain became a soundtrack to our conversation, the coffee a shared comfort. You told me about your dreams, and I listened, captivated. It felt like I'd known you for years. Leaving that cafe, the city felt different, brighter. I walked home with a new rhythm in my heart, the scent of rain and coffee still on my hands, and a silent promise to myself: this was the beginning of something beautiful.

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