But even among all the celebration, I can’t help feeling like there’s something missing from this moment. Or rather, someone. And I hate it, almost as much as I hate myself for swiping open my phone and hovering over his name. We haven’t spoken since the night before I moved out, and I know it’s likely for the best that we make a clean break. Dragging it out or trying to be friends would only make things more painful in the end. But God, I want to share this with him. More than anyone else.
