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ANYA

Three Years Earlier

EVERY DAY FEELS ENDLESS and unbearable. I walk down the beach, but it’s lacking its golden glow as the sky is grey and dreary, making the sand look pale. My gaze wanders to my left, to the empty space beside me.

How many times did Mason and I walk this very track, hand in hand, talking about anything and everything? Hours upon hours of conversation. Considering how much time we spent together, I would have thought we’d eventually run out of things to say, but we never did. If anything, we always seemed bursting with things to tell each other. Even the most simple, mundane details from our day. We just liked hearing each other talk, watching each other smile and laugh, and just being together .

Pulling up his number like I have so many times, I tap my finger on his name and listen to the phone go immediately to voicemail.

‘Hello, the person you are calling is unavailable.’

How the hell could he do something like this to me? Did he care for me at all, or was he working some elaborate plan to get his way into my pants? It seems unlikely. How could everything shared between us be fake? I don’t truly believe it was an act, but it’s hard not to let those dark, insecure thoughts swirl inside my brain. It’s been weeks since he left. Well, months, technically. I thought ... hoped ... the pain would have lessened by this point, but in the past few days, everything has seemed impossibly worse.

Turning, I walk towards the ocean. The cool sting of the water is calming as it washes over my ankles. The sun is slowly sinking into the horizon. I look to my hand, which is pressed softly against my stomach. The tears fall down my cheeks as I stare at it, my mind flashing back to the horrible night where everything fell apart.

‘Where are you, Mase?’ I whisper miserably, squeezing my eyes closed. ‘I need you.’