I woke up, and for a brief second, I thought she'd be gone again.
But she wasn't.
She was awake — sitting there, quietly, just watching me with that soft, knowing smile.
We brushed our teeth, and then — in our own odd ways — made breakfast together.
Her cooking made no sense to me.
And mine, apparently, made no sense to her.
Still, we laughed.
Ate together.
And sat on the back porch of my house, the wind gently moving around us.
"So… you don't have a place to stay?" I asked.
She shook her head. No.
"Then you're living with me," I said, calm but serious.
"I don't want to trouble you," she replied, her voice low.
"I live alone," I sighed. "I'd appreciate some company."
We argued about it — gently — but after enough back-and-forth, she finally gave in.
"Let's go buy you a few things," I said.
"Things? What things?" she asked, confused.
I smiled at her innocence.
"Some clothes… basics… you dummy."
"I'm not the dummy. You are!" she snapped back.
"And you don't need to buy me anything."
I tilted my head, patted her gently on the head.
"Please."
That one word — soft, simple — was enough.
She gave in again.
---
We left before lunch, planning to eat out later.
We walked into a few stores, but she refused to try anything on.
It was weird but I thought she wasn't comfortable.
And I respected that.
She even declined to buy sandals.
> "I like to walk barefoot," she said.
"Makes me feel connected to the earth."
I laughed but didn't push her.
That was Sofia — wild, honest, free.
---
After lunch, we returned to the old house to water the flowers.
We sat on the porch, the sun beginning to fade.
Out of nowhere, she asked:
"Tell me about yourself."
"I'm a simple man. There's nothing to say," I replied.
She got up and sat on my lap again —
one hand on my collar, the other on my neck.
"You can tell me everything," she said softly.
"It's alright."
I don't know why… but I did.
---
I sighed, and the words finally left me.
"I was a gifted writer as a kid — people called me a prodigy.
My poetry made us rich fast. I became famous… Noah too, through my help and his art.
But with fame came everything else — jealousy, greed, pressure, fake people, troubles.
My parents started fighting all the time, drifting apart because of it.
And many people tried to be friendly with us for fame and money
"Noah was the only one who stayed by me."
I paused. I could feel my voice starting to break.
"One day, after a big event I won, my parents were fighting again — yelling, shouting at each other…
They didn't see the truck coming neither did the truck driver.
It hit us.
They both died.
I broke my arm. I survived — somehow.
Noah paid my hospital bills. Used everything he had saved.
Everyone else left because I was of no use to them as I couldn't write anymore.
I wasn't the 'kid of wonders' anymore just a kid with a sad story."
The tears came before I could stop them.
"The last time I wrote…
it was for Noah.
Just to help him after that I never picked up a pen."
I couldn't speak anymore.
Sofia didn't say anything right away.
She just wiped my tears with her thumb and whispered:
"I'm here for you.
Don't cry alone.
If you weep, I'll weep with you."
And maybe… she did.
Maybe the sky cried with me too.
All I remember next is hugging her tight — breaking down into her arms —
and the rain falling, soft and slow, like her.
---
It was night by the time we got home.
We didn't say much.
We just lay beside each other.
No words.
No distance.
---
But the next morning, I woke up…
And she was gone.
Again.
Vanished like she never existed in the first place.
Vanished like the wind
Vanished like the joy in my life after the accident —
And once again,
I was alone.
Totally completely alone.