Falling Like A Waterfall
1637 Words
I woke up to the feeling of his lips on mine—warm, slow, and intoxicating. His hands gently cupped my face, pulling me deeper into the kiss, as if savoring every second. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, but I kissed him back just as eagerly, letting myself drown in the moment.
“Good morning, baby,” he murmured against my lips, his voice husky from sleep.
I barely had time to respond before he scooped me up effortlessly and carried me to the bathroom. “We’re showering together?” I asked, my voice laced with both surprise and shyness.
He smirked, setting me down as he turned on the water. “Of course. I need to make sure you’re extra clean before I leave.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. The warm water cascaded over us, and I felt his arms snake around my waist from behind, pulling me against his chest.
“You’re staring,” I teased, feeling the weight of his gaze on me.
He let out a low chuckle. “Can you blame me? My girl looks breathtaking under the water.”
I covered my face with my hands, groaning. “Stop.”
“Why would I? You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he teased, prying my hands away. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. “Last night… was perfect. But I think I love this even more.”
The air was thick with something unspoken as we sat across from each other at the restaurant. The clinking of utensils and the quiet chatter of other diners filled the space around us, but in our little world, there was only silence.
I pushed the food around my plate, not really hungry. He, on the other hand, ate as if this was just another normal morning. As if we weren’t counting down the hours before he left.
“Eat,” he said, nudging my plate closer to me. His voice was soft, but there was a hint of firmness to it.
I sighed, picking up a small piece of toast and taking a bite just to appease him. “Happy now?” I mumbled.
He smirked. “Not really. You look like you’re being forced to eat a rock.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t respond. I didn’t have the energy to banter with him like we usually did. Not today.
He noticed, of course. He always did.
His hand reached for mine across the table, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin. “Hey,” he murmured, tilting his head to meet my eyes. “Talk to me.”
I forced a small smile. “I don’t know what to say.”
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Then just listen.” He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not leaving because I want to. You know that, right?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I know.”
“Good.” He brought my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against my knuckles. “Then eat, baby. You’ll need your strength for later.”
I didn’t know what he meant by “later.” But right now, all I knew was that every moment felt like a ticking clock, and I wasn’t ready for time to run out.
Back at the hotel, I sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he moved around the room, packing his things.
I hated this.
Hated the way he folded his clothes so neatly, as if this was just another trip, another flight. Hated the way his movements were so effortless, while I sat there feeling like my heart was being ripped apart.
I didn’t say anything. I just watched.
Watched as he zipped up his bag. Watched as he double-checked his pockets. Watched as he prepared to leave.
And then, before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.
“Sam…” My voice was small, fragile. “Are you coming back?”
He froze.
For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then, in one smooth movement, he was in front of me, crouching down so we were eye level. His hands found my waist, pulling me into him.
His lips pressed against my forehead—a soft, lingering kiss.
“Wherever you are,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “I will find you.”
I wanted to believe him. I really did.
But no matter how sweet his words were, my heart refused to trust them. Because words could be shallow. Because people changed. Because love, no matter how strong, didn’t always mean forever.
Still, I closed my eyes and let myself melt into his embrace, pretending, just for a little while, that this wasn’t goodbye.
Even if it felt like it was.
The room felt colder now that his things were packed. The weight in my chest grew heavier with each passing second, and I knew I had to distract myself before my emotions swallowed me whole.
He zipped up his suitcase, then turned to me with a small smile. “Do you want to visit a place before I leave?”
I hesitated. There was only one place in my mind—a place that, for some reason, mirrored the emotions I had been desperately trying to suppress.
“Red Rock Falls,” I said.
His brows lifted slightly. “Why there?”
I took a deep breath, forcing a small smile. “Because no matter how hard I try to hold it in… I can’t help but fall.”
His expression softened, and he didn’t ask anything more. Instead, he reached for his suitcase, and we made our way downstairs.
At the hotel lobby, he handed his baggage to the receptionist for safekeeping. I stood silently beside him, my fingers gripping the strap of my bag, my heart feeling heavier than it should.
And then we left.
The car ride was painfully silent. Usually, he’d have some random story to tell, something lighthearted to fill the air. But today, he didn’t. Maybe he felt it too—the thick tension, the unspoken words hanging between us.
I stared out the window, watching the scenery blur past. My throat felt tight, my chest a little too heavy.
Then, he broke the silence.
“What’s your plan once you get your teaching license?”
I blinked, caught off guard by his question. It took me a moment to answer. “I want to teach abroad,” I finally said.
He glanced at me, then smiled. “That’s great.” There was a pause before he added, “I’ll visit you on your birthday.”
My heart clenched. My birthday. That was in August. That was months away.
I stayed quiet, my thoughts spiraling into places I didn’t want to go. Could he really come back? Would he?
I barely noticed when he reached for my hand, his fingers lacing through mine. The warmth of his touch pulled me back to reality.
“Don’t delay your dreams just because I’ll be visiting you in August,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “Because like I said—wherever you are, I will find you.”
I wanted to hold onto those words, to let them be enough to calm the storm inside me. But no matter how reassuring he was, there was still that lingering ache in my heart, whispering the one thing I refused to say out loud.
What if one day… he stopped looking for me?
I tried to push away all the negativity, all the doubts, and just focus on the moment. This moment—where the world felt quiet except for the soothing rush of water cascading down the rocks.
The falls were breathtaking. The way the sunlight hit the surface, creating ripples of golden hues, was enough to distract me from the ache in my chest. I let the sound of the water drown out my overthinking, at least for now.
I glanced at him, standing a few feet away, looking effortlessly at peace as he admired the view. Without a second thought, I lifted my phone and took a picture. A memory frozen in time—something I could look at when the distance became unbearable.
He turned his head just in time to catch me in the act. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Taking stolen shots of me, huh?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just one.”
He reached out, taking my hand in his as we started walking along the trail together. His grip was firm, warm, grounding—like he was silently reminding me that he was still here. That we still had time.
We spent the next couple of hours soaking in the beauty of the place, stealing moments of laughter, of quiet conversations, of simple touches that meant more than words ever could. But time had no mercy. It kept moving, ticking away at what little we had left.
And then, we had to leave.
The ride back to the hotel was silent again, but this time, it wasn’t comfortable. The lump in my throat grew heavier with every mile closer to the inevitable.
Then, without warning, my tears started to fall.
I quickly wiped them away, turning my face toward the window, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But he always noticed.
His grip on my hand tightened. He didn’t say anything, but that simple action was enough to break me even more.
This was it.
Everything was sinking in. He was really leaving.
Fifteen days—fifteen wonderful, unforgettable days—felt like a single fleeting moment.
And I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
- Writer
