Page 150 of What Should Have Been Ours

68

Gabrielle

The apartment is quiet, too quiet. The funeral is over, the people are gone, and the weight of today is settling in, dragging every part of me under.

I’m not built to handle this.

Kinsley and Wes refuse to leave, and I’m actually glad they don’t. I don’t know if I’d be able to sit in this silence alone right now.

We’re curled up in the living room—Wes is in the armchair, Kinsley is beside me on the couch. The TV is on, playing some show none of us are really watching, just background noise to keep the grief from being too loud.

I feel off. My body aches in a way that isn’t just sadness. My stomach has been twisting in on itself all day, and no matter how still I sit, the nausea lingers.

Kinsley notices. She always does. She’s been by my side all day, keeping an arm around me, pressing water bottles into my hands, whispering that I need to eat something.

But I can’t. The heaviness is too much. The sadness won’t let me think about taking care of myself.

I lean back against the couch cushions, exhaling slowly.

Kinsley nudges my knee with hers. “You okay?”

I nod weakly. “Just…exhausted.”

Her lips press together like she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t push.

For a while, we just sit there. Then Wes shifts forward in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face before he gets up, disappearing into the guest room for a moment. When he comes back, there’s a box in his hands.

He doesn’t sit back down. He just kneels in front of me, placing the box gently in my lap.

“Cam told me to give it to you after the funeral. When he knew you’d need it the most,” he says, his voice straining.

For a second, I can’t move. I’m trying really hard not to cry.

I sit there, staring down at the box in my lap, feeling the weight of it—not just physically, but emotionally. It’s him. It’s another piece of him.

A new piece of him…

What a gift…what a cruel gift.

I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t know if I can be ready for whatever is in here. But my hands move anyway, my fingers holding onto the edges of the lid, lifting it open.

I reach for the first item, and see that it’s a letter. In his handwriting.

The moment I see my name scrawled across the top, my vision blurs.

Gabrielle, my love,

I don’t know how much time I have left, but I know it’s not enough. Not for me. Not for us.

I wanted forever with you. I wanted a lifetime of lazy Sunday mornings and stupid inside jokes, of dancing in the kitchen and holding you close every night. I wanted all the moments we never got to have.

I wanted what should have been ours.

I’m sorry that’s being taken away like this. But if there’s one thing I’ll never regret, it’s loving you. Loving you was the best thing I ever did in my life. You were the first girl that I ever loved, and I’m blessed that you also get to be the last. You were actually my only love, though, Gabrielle. And I need you to know how special of a person you are and the lasting effect you had on my life.

You made this life worth every minute I had here on earth. Thank you for the way you loved me to the fullest.

And I need you to promise me something, okay? I need you to keep going. I know that’s a hard thing to ask because if the roles were reversed, I don’t think I would survive without you, but I need to know that when I go, you’ll still find a way to live. Not just survive. Live. And be happy still. I can’t stomach the thought of you losing your light. The thing I loved the most about you should still be shared with the rest of the world.