Still Here. Still Love. Still Breathing.

Dear Sayang, 

I had a small chat with Mak today.
It started like any normal conversation — light, simple.
She mentioned her knee was hurting.

And then, out of nowhere, she said,
"Maybe I’m nearing my time."

I laughed.
I smiled — not the bright, full smile you used to love, but the half-smile I've been working so hard to find again since you left.

But inside, love...
inside, I broke a little.
Inside, my heart whispered,

"Please, not yet.
I’m not ready to lose her too.
I can barely stand losing you."

I know the time will come.
I know how life works — how fragile everything is.
You taught me to accept that, even when we hated it.

But not now.
Please, not now.

I just started breathing properly again.
I just started believing that maybe — just maybe — it’s okay to smile, to laugh, to feel a little bit alive without you standing next to me.

I don’t think I could bear another goodbye yet.
Not while I’m still piecing myself back together, one exhausted heartbeat at a time.

After that conversation, I sat with the fear.
I didn't run.
I didn’t pretend it didn’t exist.
I just sat there, breathing through it.

And somewhere deep inside — somewhere where your love still hums like a background song — I found these words:

Still here.
Still love.
Still breathing.
I am okay.
She’s okay.

I held onto that like a rope in a storm.
I whispered it again and again until the panic softened and my hands stopped shaking.

You would’ve smiled at me, I think.
You would’ve pulled me into your arms and said,
"That's my girl. That’s my fighter."

You always knew how to make me believe in myself, even when my world felt like it was splitting at the seams.

I’m not pretending I’m brave, love.
I'm just trying.
Every day, I'm trying.

Trying to live in today — not in fear of what's coming.
Trying to keep loving without flinching.
Trying to keep breathing, even when my chest feels too tight.

You would be proud of me.
I’m scared, yes.
But I’m also still showing up.

Still here.
Still love.
Still breathing.

Just like you would want me to.

I miss you.
I love you.
I’ll keep going, one small, stubborn heartbeat at a time.

Always yours,
Me.

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