Waking Up to Letting Go

Roy woke before the alarm, his eyes opening into the dim grey light of early morning. For a moment he lay still, unsure what had pulled him from sleep. Then he felt the warm weight pressed against his side and remembered.

Michelle.

She slept curled against him, one arm draped across his chest, her face tucked near his shoulder. Her breathing was slow and even, the steady rhythm of someone utterly at peace. A loose strand of hair had fallen across her cheek, rising and falling with each breath.

Roy carefully shifted his head on the pillow, studying her. In sleep, she looked younger. Not childlike, never that, but softer. The bright enthusiasm she wore so easily during the day gave way to something gentler, more ****. Her lips were slightly parted, and every so often they moved faintly, like she was chasing fragments of a dream she would never remember.

If he was right, if he had finally figured out how the wish worked, then last night had set things in motion. The process had begun. Michelle would be free of him soon. Free to return to the life she should have been living all along.

The thought brought relief.

And an unexpected, quiet grief.

The past day and a half had been wonderful. More than he wanted to admit, even to himself. Michelle brought energy into every room she entered. She laughed easily, filled silences without making them feel crowded, turned ordinary moments into something brighter simply by being present. Being with her made him feel lighter. Younger. Like parts of himself he had quietly accepted as gone had stirred back to life.

He looked around the bedroom, letting his gaze drift across the small, familiar space.

Her clothes were folded over the chair. Her phone charger snaked across the bedside table. Her perfume lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the neutral scent of laundry detergent and the lingering warmth of shared sleep. The apartment felt alive with her here.

And he was going to miss that.

He was going to miss her teasing jokes, the way she giggled at things that weren't particularly funny but became funny because she laughed at them anyway. He was going to miss the spontaneous kisses, the way she leaned against him without thinking, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Roy exhaled slowly.

But he had done the right thing.

He had no right to pull her out of her life and place her into his. Whatever the wish had done, however it had twisted reality, Michelle deserved to return to her own path. Maybe things with her mother would be repaired. Maybe they would not. But at least Michelle would be facing her future as herself, not as someone reshaped by his mistake.

Carefully, he eased her arm from his chest and slipped out of bed. She stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, but she didn't wake. Roy paused beside the bed, watching her sleep one last time before turning away.

Muscles he didn't know were tight relaxed as he showered, letting the hot water pound against the back of his neck, as he tried to steady his thoughts. He shaved with slow, deliberate strokes, nicking himself once along the jaw when his mind wandered. By the time he finished dressing, the familiar routine had helped settle him into something resembling composure.

In the kitchen, he measured coffee grounds with practised precision and set the machine humming. The simple domestic ritual grounded him. He placed two slices of bread into the toaster, leaning against the counter as the aroma of brewing coffee filled the apartment.

The toast popped up with a soft click. At the same moment, he heard the faint shuffle of footsteps behind him. Roy turned.

Michelle stood in the doorway between the hallway and the kitchen, her hair tousled from sleep, her eyes still heavy with it.

She was completely naked.

His eyes widened before he could stop himself. The morning light spilling through the window traced soft highlights along her skin, catching on the curves of her shoulders, her waist, her hips. She didn't seem remotely self-conscious. If anything, she looked relaxed, comfortable, like this was already routine.

Roy stared. He couldn't help it. She was beautiful. Vibrant. Alive in a way that felt almost luminous. A sexy nineteen-year-old woman standing barefoot in his kitchen. Barefoot and naked. Barefoot and naked and happy to see him.

And soon, he reminded himself, he wouldn't be able to see things like this anymore. And, he had to admit, he would he miss it.

He blinked, startled by himself. A flicker of disgust brushed through him, sharp and unwelcome. But as quickly as it came, it faded into something more complicated. He had spent days fighting the morality of this situation, wrestling with guilt he couldn't resolve and responsibility he couldn't escape. The truth stood plainly in front of him now.

The wish had created rules he hadn't chosen. It pushed him into these relationships. It demanded intimacy as the only way to release the women from its influence. Refusing to participate didn't free them. It trapped them. It was flawed. Deeply, fundamentally flawed.

But it was also the way things were.

Roy exhaled slowly, feeling something shift inside him. Not acceptance exactly. Not comfort. But a recognition that punishing himself endlessly wouldn't change the system he was trapped inside. He could spend every moment drowning in guilt, or he could navigate the reality he had been handed as carefully and honestly as he could.

Michelle padded toward him, smiling softly.

"One of those for me, hon?" she asked, nodding toward the toast.

"If you want," he said, clearing his throat slightly. "Good morning."

"It is a good morning, isn't it?"

She stepped up to him and pressed a quick, affectionate kiss against his lips. It was warm, casual, familiar in a way that tugged unexpectedly at his chest.

"You were incredible last night," she said, her voice bright but sincere.

"As were you," he replied. "That was one to remember."

She grinned, reaching for one of the toast slices and taking a small bite before wandering over to pour herself coffee from the pot. She leaned against the counter across from him, cradling the mug between her hands. They chatted easily, the conversation drifting between small observations and lingering comfort. She told him she still couldn't believe how good the restaurant had been. He teased her gently about her continued obsession with the dessert menu. She stuck her tongue out at him before laughing.

Eventually, her expression softened.

"Hey," she said. "Do you mind if I stay home today?"

Roy looked up from rinsing his plate.

"Everything okay?"

She nodded, though her shoulders lifted in a small, uncertain shrug.

"I just... I don't think I'm ready to go back to work yet. After yesterday. After everything with my mom. It still feels... scary, I guess. I could call in sick. It wouldn't be a big deal."

"That's understandable," Roy said gently.

"And besides," she added, her grin returning, "that key you gave me last night doesn't fit the front door."

Roy paused.

She raised her eyebrows playfully.

"Goes in a different lock," she continued, winking. "Fits perfectly, though."

Roy huffed a quiet, helpless laugh, shaking his head.

"I noticed," he said.

"So... I can stay?"

"Of course you can. You don't need my permission. It's your place, too."

He tried to ignore the small, pragmatic voice reminding him that her being home when the wish activated would probably make things easier. She could gather her things. Move on cleanly. Without confusion. Without leaving things behind.

Michelle beamed, clearly relieved.

"Thank you."

They finished breakfast slowly. Roy rinsed his dishes and set them in the drying rack while Michelle leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee and watching him with an easy, contented expression.

Eventually, he checked the time and reached for his bag.

"I should get going."

She followed him toward the front door, still completely unconcerned with her lack of clothing. She met him there, resting her hands lightly against his chest as he reached for his keys. Roy looked down at her. For a moment, the apartment faded away. The morning light. The quiet hum of the building. All of it receded beneath the sudden, heavy certainty settling in his mind.

This was goodbye.

Not the casual, everyday goodbye of people who expected to see each other in a few hours. A final goodbye. The knowledge pressed against his ribs until it almost hurt to breathe.

"Michelle," he said softly, "thanks for being my girlfriend. You're incredible. Very incredible. I've been lucky to be with you."

Her smile softened, warmth flooding her eyes. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.

They kissed.

It was slow. Tender. Unhurried. A kiss that spoke in quiet emotions rather than urgency. Michelle leaned into him completely, her fingers resting lightly against the back of his neck as if memorizing the feel of him.

The kiss lingered. Stretched. Deepened slightly before easing back into something softer again.

Their last kiss, Roy thought.

Eventually, he **** himself to pull away.

"Goodbye," he said quietly.

"See you later," she replied, smiling, completely unaware of the weight behind his words.

He stepped into the hallway. The apartment door closed gently behind him, the click of the latch echoing in the quiet corridor. Roy stood there for a moment, adjusting the strap of his bag, steadying himself before heading toward the elevators.

Then he heard another door closing somewhere down the hall. He turned instinctively toward the sound.

And the hairs along his arms slowly began to stand on end.