Page 141 of Steel Beauty

Reading this journal feels like scaling a mountain, each page a step closer to truly understanding her. I want to know her thoughts, to hold on to the pieces of herself she’s entrusted to me. This journal isn’t just a gift—it’s a part of her. And I vow to read every word, savoring them like threads that connect me to her.

As I close the journal, my fingers caress its cover as though I can still feel her through it. The room feels both achingly full and heartbreakingly empty—alive with echoes of her laughter and the memories she’s left, yet hollow without her warmth, her voice, her presence.

The dark skyline stretches endlessly beyond the window, city lights glittering like distant stars. But all I can feel is the space growing between us. My hands clench, resolve hardening within me. This isn’t where our story ends—I can feel it in my bones. No distance can erase what we’ve built, what we’ve shared.

I set the journal down and take a steadying breath, my gaze fixed on the horizon as if it might offer a glimpse of her. The words leave me quietly, almost a whisper, but they’re filled with conviction, steadying me against her absence.

“This isn’t goodbye, my steel beauty.” My heartache is softened by determination. “It’s just see you later.”

Magnolia loves me. I feel it in every word she’s left unspoken and every moment we’ve shared. I believe, with all my heart, that the distance will only make her realize how deeply our love goes.

And that’s why I can let her go—for now.

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