Exactly Two Weeks Apart 😣

Exactly two weeks apart. That’s all it took for everything to change—twice. What started as one of the happiest days of my life was followed by one of the hardest. Life has a way of teaching you lessons in pairs: joy and sorrow, hope and heartache, beginnings and endings. And in my case, they came exactly two weeks apart.

Two weeks ago, I was beaming. My heart was light, and the air felt different. It was the kind of day where the sky looked bluer, songs sounded sweeter, and time moved just a little slower so you could enjoy every second. I had finally told her how I felt. After months—maybe even years—of holding it all in, I had the courage to say it: “I love you.” And she said it back. That moment, that connection, felt like the start of something truly beautiful. Angel girl so cute 😍😍 Love this feeling, love this moment, love this life you’re building — together.

We laughed about how long it took us to get here. We made plans. Not the big kind, like moving in or getting married—just simple things, like going to the lake next weekend, watching old movies, trying that new dessert place downtown. Everything felt easy. Natural. Right. I started to believe that maybe, finally, the universe was giving me something good without trying to take it away.

But then, exactly two weeks later, the call came. I still remember the timestamp. 3:47 PM. Her best friend’s name lit up on my screen, and in that split second, my heart sank before I even answered. You know when you just know something’s wrong? That’s how it felt.

She was gone.

A car accident. No pain, they said. Quick. But I didn’t care about the details. My brain couldn’t process anything beyond the simple, brutal truth: she wasn’t coming back. The girl I just started loving, the one who brought sunshine into my world, was suddenly not here. And all I could think about was how it had only been two weeks. Two weeks between “I love you” and “I’m sorry.”

I keep going back to those last moments with her—what we said, how we laughed, how she looked at me like I was the only person in the room. I replay it all over and over, wishing I could bottle it up and live in that space forever. Grief has a strange way of warping time. Some days, two weeks feels like a heartbeat. Other days, it feels like a lifetime.

Exactly two weeks apart. That phrase haunts me. It reminds me how fragile life is, how quickly everything can shift. It’s a cruel number, a reminder of how close love and loss sit beside each other on the timeline of life. But even through the pain, I’m grateful I got to love her, even for just a little while. Because that love—pure, powerful, and real—will stay with me. Forever.