Chapter 107
Success and Sorrow.
Chris’ POV:
I sat at my desk, staring at the stack of books in front of me. My books. My bestselling books. I couldn’t believe it. My writing career was finally taking off, and it felt amazing.
But as I gazed at the covers, a pang of sadness hit me. I couldn’t share this moment with Megan. She was too busy gathering evidence with Miles, trying to take down her the syndicate empire.
I felt like I was living a double life. On one hand, I was achieving my dreams, becoming a successful author. On the other hand, my personal life was in shambles. The woman I loved was distant, consumed by her own battles.
I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. I had tried to reach out to her, to celebrate my success with her, but she was always busy. I knew she was hurting, that this whole ordeal with her ex was taking a toll on her. But I was hurting too.
I needed her, I needed her support and love. But she was nowhere to be found.
I stood up and walked to the window, gazing out at the city. I felt like I was on top of the world, but at the same time, I felt so alone.
I thought about calling Jake, my friend, but I knew he was busy with his own life. I was happy for him, but I couldn’t help feeling envious. He had his partner, his love, by his side. Why couldn’t I have that with Megan?
I slumped back into my chair, feeling the weight of my success. It wasn’t as sweet as I thought it would be. I needed someone to share it with, someone to celebrate with.
But Megan was gone, lost in her own world.
And I was left here, alone, with my bestselling books.
I tried to focus on my work, but my mind kept wandering back to Megan. I missed her, I missed her smile, her laugh, her touch. I missed everything about her.
I got up and walked to the bookshelf, pulling out a photo album. I flipped through the pages, looking at pictures of us together. Happy memories, frozen in time.
I stopped at a picture of us at the beach, holding hands and smiling at the camera. That was the happiest day of my life.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek, and I let it fall. I was tired of holding it in, tired of pretending that everything was okay.
I wasn’t okay. I was broken, I was hurting, and I needed Megan to make me whole again.
I closed the album and walked back to my desk, determined to write her a letter, to tell her how I felt. Maybe it would reach her, maybe it would make her see how much she meant to me.
I sat down and began to write, pouring my heart out onto the page. It was a letter of love, of longing, of sorrow.
As I wrote, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I felt like I was finally being honest, finally being true to myself.
I wrote about our time together, about the laughter and the adventures. I wrote about the way she made me feel, about the way she looked at me with her beautiful eyes.
I wrote about my success, about how it felt hollow without her by my side. I wrote about my fears, about my doubts, about my insecurities.
And I wrote about my love for her, about how it only grew stronger with each passing day.
I finished the letter and read it over, feeling a sense of peace wash over me. I knew it might not change anything, but at least I had tried.
I folded the letter and put it in an envelope, addressing it to Megan. I would give it to her, somehow, someway.
And then, maybe, just maybe, she would see how much she meant to me. Maybe she would come back to me, and we could celebrate my success together.
Maybe we could start a new chapter in our lives, a chapter of love, of happiness, of togetherness.
I smiled, feeling a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, our love story wasn’t over yet.
I got up and walked to the window again, looking out at the city. I felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose.
I would find a way to get this letter to Megan, no matter what it took. I would find a way to make her see how much she meant to me.
And then, maybe, just maybe, we could be together again. Maybe we could be happy again.
I took a deep breath, feeling a sense of resolve. I would do whatever it took to make this happen.
But in the meantime, I will just be at the beach. It is therapeutic there, anyways, Jake says he would be there, so it will not be boring for me.
I walked along the beach, feeling the warm sand between my toes and the cool ocean breeze on my skin. I needed a break from life, and the beach was always my go to place to clear my head.
As I walked, I noticed a woman sitting on a beach towel, typing away on her laptop. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her.
“Hi,” I said, approaching her.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked her.
“Not at all. I’m Maya.” She looked up, startled, and then smiled.
“Chris,” I replied, sitting down next to her.
“What brings you to the beach?” I asked her.
“I’m a travel writer. I’m working on a piece about this beach.” Maya closed her laptop and turned to me.
“No way,” I said, laughing.
“I’m a travel writer too but I started writing books lately!” I said.
“That’s amazing! What kind of books?” Maya’s eyes lit up
We spent the next hour talking about our writing, our passions, and our dreams. Maya was easy to talk to, and I found myself opening up to her in ways I never thought possible.
As we talked, I realized that Maya was not only a kindred spirit but also a beautiful person. Her smile lit up the beach, and her laughter was infectious.
“Thanks for listening, Maya,” I said, feeling a sense of gratitude towards her.
“You have no idea how much I needed this conversation.” I told her.
“I think I do, Chris. Sometimes, we just need someone to talk to, someone who understands us.” Maya smiled and put a hand on my arm.
I nodded, feeling a connection with her that I couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the fact that we were both writers, and maybe it was something more.
As we sat there, watching the sun set over the ocean.