𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          


The roar of the crowd, the flashing lights, the music pulsing through the air—it all felt so real.
I could still feel Jon's hand on mine, his voice filling the space around us. "I can't believe you're here..." he had said, that deep warmth in his tone, and I'd smiled, heart racing, as the crowd chanted our names. It was perfect, too perfect, the kind of moment you couldn't even imagine in your wildest dreams.
Then his lips were on mine, soft and slow, and for a brief second, everything in the world felt right.
But then, just as quickly as it all began, the lights dimmed, the music faded, and the crowd's roar turned into a dull hum in the distance.
I blinked.
The warmth that had flooded me vanished, replaced by a sharp, empty chill. My eyes fluttered open.
I was in my apartment. Alone.
The soft hum of the city outside was the only sound as I lay in my bed, my arms tangled in the sheets. The cool morning light filtered through the curtains, but it didn't feel like morning. It felt like I had just woken from something I wasn't ready to wake up from.
A dream.
A memory.
I closed my eyes again, trying to hold on to the feeling of his kiss, his touch, the way he'd looked at me with that genuine smile of his. But it slipped away like sand through my fingers, and the cold air of the room made me pull the blanket tighter around me, trying to chase away the ache in my chest.
I had to get up. I couldn't stay there, buried in the dream.
Slowly, I sat up, blinking away the fogginess in my head, still trying to shake the remnants of the dream. The apartment was too quiet, too still. My apartment in New York was nothing like the stage or the life I'd had with him.
I got up, my feet hitting the cold floor, and walked across the room. My gaze fell to the closet door.
There it was.
The shirt. Jon's shirt. The one he had left behind the last time he visited. The one I had held on to like it was a piece of him I could keep.
I opened the closet, my fingers brushing over the soft fabric. I could almost hear his laugh, feel his presence. I pulled the shirt out, pressing it to my face, inhaling the familiar scent of him—the cologne, the faint hint of sweat from his concert, and the mix of him that I couldn't shake. It was like I could almost pretend that he was here.
But he wasn't. He wasn't here.
I sank to the floor, the weight of the emotions I had kept buried suddenly crashing over me. The loneliness, the longing, the emptiness that had been following me for weeks.
I hugged Jon's shirt to my chest, tears blurring my vision as I let out a choked sob.
It was like everything I had been holding in finally broke free, and I couldn't stop it. The ache in my heart, the pain of missing him so badly, it was overwhelming.
I felt so alone. So disconnected from everything.
Just as my head dropped, my back pressing against the wall, I heard the sound of the door creak open. I didn't even have to look up.
"Ari?"
I sniffed, wiping my face, but it didn't help. My best friend, Naomi Campbell, stepped into the room. Her presence was like a light in the darkness—effortlessly radiant, always there when I needed her most.
Naomi didn't say anything at first. She simply crouched down beside me and gently pulled me into her arms. Her voice was soft, soothing, as she ran a hand through my hair.
"Talk to me, babe," she murmured. "What's going on?"
I let out a shaky breath, trying to pull myself together, but the tears kept falling. I buried my face into her shoulder, feeling the cool fabric of her jacket against my cheek.
"I just... I miss him," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I miss Jon so much, Nam. I don't know how much longer I can do this... the distance, the separation. The way it feels like we're just... slipping away from each other."
Naomi's arms tightened around me, and she held me there, letting me cry it out. She didn't try to fix anything. She didn't rush me. She just let me feel everything.
"I know, Ari," she said softly. "I know you miss him. But you're not slipping away. You're just going through a rough patch. You're strong—you're one of the strongest people I know. And you'll get through this. But it's okay to let yourself break down sometimes, okay?"
I nodded, my body still trembling, but it was comforting to know that she was there, as she always had been.
After a few moments, she pulled back just slightly, holding me at arm's length. "You need to let him know how you're feeling. You can't keep it all inside. You're allowed to have bad days, Ari. You're allowed to miss him. And you're allowed to cry when it hurts. You're human."
I wiped my eyes again, trying to regain some composure. Naomi's words hung in the air, and for the first time in a while, I felt like maybe I wasn't as alone as I thought.
"You're right," I said, my voice steadier. "I've been holding on to everything, pretending like I'm fine. But I'm not. And I need to do something about it."
Naomi smiled softly, her eyes filled with understanding. "You will. And I'll be here for you, every step of the way."
I nodded, my fingers still clutching Jon's shirt as I tried to catch my breath. Naomi was right. I couldn't keep pretending to be fine. I needed to talk to him—needed to hear his voice, feel that connection again.
For now, though, I wasn't alone. And that had to be enough.