September 10

She woke up as usual that day, followed her morning ritual – washing up and brushing teeth. When she looked at the calendar, only then her expression changed.

10.9.23.

10.9.19. The day he lost his six-years-long battle with depression. It’s been four years already.

How ironical.

* * *

“Let’s live together.” He was the one who proposed it, “I will understand you better than anyone else, and I am sure you will understand me better than anyone.”

She had nothing to lose. There was no one way anyone would come and tell her that he liked him. She wasn’t some beauty. And moreover...she had depression.

Just like him.

“Why don't we just get married?” she said. She wanted their relationship to be stable after all. She lost touch with her family, so it would be nice to have an official family.

He thought about it, and said,

“Okay, but on conditions.”

“Spill it.”

“No wedding ceremony. It will be quiet and something just between us. And we are allowed to leave each other anytime and start living separately.”

She agreed.

* * *

They were both musicians. He was mainly a guitarist, but he also sang, wrote and produced songs. She was a vocalist with baritone vocals, and also a lyricist.

He was attracted by her works. Her lyrics and the emotions that she put in her songs.

“We would make a great duo. Trust me.” He said. “That way, we will be able to reach more people like us.”

He was really passionate about his work. He gave it his all when it came to music. And he said that the only time when he felt alive was when he worked on his music.

She loved working with him. Their songs were like conversations with each other. Things they could never tell each other normally, they told those through their music.

* * *

Their relationship was nothing romantic.

They worked in their respective studios all day. They met each other only at nights. And they were not the romantic type at all.

They were just two tired and lonely people comforting each other at the end of a long, exhausting day.

* * *

That night, she came home late.

The apartment was dark. Entering their bedroom, she found the bathroom door locked from inside. Maybe he was taking a shower, she thought.

When half an hour passed and he still didn't open the door, her sixth sense warned her. She knocked the door and called his name. No reply.

Her heart sank. She called 911 immediately.

Her instinct didn't lie. But it was too late anyway.

* * *

They weren’t lovers.

They weren’t friends.

They weren’t family.

They were mere companions who comforted and accompanied each other through darkness, two people who understood and empathized with each other. They just happened to get stuck in the same place together.

She knew that she could never save him. And if it were her instead of him, he couldn’t have saved her either.

* * *

Why was she still here even after four years? It was his apartment, after all.

Because she was tied to him and his memories in one way or another. They shared something special and it couldn’t be denied.

Now she was back to making music alone and living with herself, but there was a hole in her heart.

It was September 10 again, and she was missing him.