Where You Left Me by Olivia Salter | Short Fiction

 

Where You Left Me

By Olivia Salter

Word Count: 1,166

The hallway leading to Alex’s apartment was as dim as he remembered, its lights flickering as if caught between light and dark, like him. Ben’s hand hovered over her door, fingers brushing against the cold wood. How many times had he been here before, running through some last-minute excuse he could throw out just to ease his way back into her life?

Her door, worn and marked by the scars of past visitors—scratches from keys, dents from careless knocks—stared back at him. He wanted to knock, to give in to the usual ritual of waiting until she forgave him with that look of quiet surrender. It was always that way with her. She’d see the shadows in him and brush them off as though they were nothing, as if he were worth the love she gave so freely.

This time was different, though. It had been months. Three long, hollow months of nothing but the silence she’d left behind, a silence that had begun to gnaw at him like hunger. Finally, he forced himself to knock, listening as the sound faded into the emptiness on the other side. He waited, seconds stretching like hours.

But no one came to the door.

***

He fumbled for his spare key, feeling the weight of it—small, cold, yet somehow heavier than anything he’d ever held. He turned it in the lock, the familiar click sounding strangely foreign, almost like a warning.

The door opened onto a darkened space, shades drawn and light creeping only around the edges. He stepped inside, taking in the emptiness, the stark vacancy that pressed in from every corner. The smell of her lavender candles had faded, replaced by the dry, stale scent of abandonment. There were no cushions on the couch, no forgotten cup of tea on the counter, no mess of books sprawled out by her favorite chair. All of it was gone, like a stage set dismantled after the final act.

He moved through the rooms, trying to find some sign, some piece of her she might have left behind. In the kitchen, he reached out instinctively for her mug—the one with the chipped edge she always insisted on using—only to find an empty shelf, smooth and bare, as if she’d never even been here.

Each room was stripped, devoid of her warmth. Even the bathroom mirror, once fogged with her morning routines and little messages traced in lipstick, was clean, sterile. He opened a drawer, empty. A cabinet, empty. He felt the quiet seep into him, heavy and unforgiving.

But the bedroom was what truly unnerved him. Her bed was gone, leaving an impression in the carpet like a shadow that refused to fade. For a moment, he stood there, heart pounding, staring at that empty space. She’d been meticulous in her absence, erasing herself from every corner of the apartment, as if to ensure that he wouldn’t find a trace of her.

A memory broke through—her last text, months ago, after he’d brushed her off one too many times: If you push me away, I promise you, you won’t find me where you left me.

He’d laughed at the time, dismissing it as another one of her melodramatic responses. But now, standing in the hollow shell of her life, he felt her absence as a deep, aching weight.

***

Weeks passed, yet her ghost lingered in his thoughts, haunting him. Everywhere he looked, he saw her—a glimpse of her favorite color in a scarf, the sound of her laughter, faint but distinct, drifting from a nearby café. He began seeking her out, roaming the streets, asking friends about her, but no one had answers. It was as though she had vanished, dissolved from his world entirely.

Then, on a rainy afternoon, he finally saw her. She stood by a street-side café, wrapped in a red scarf he’d never seen, her face lit with laughter. She was radiant, almost unrecognizable in her ease. There was a man beside her, tall and dark-eyed, his hand resting on the small of her back as they shared a quiet moment, leaning close as if they were the only two people in the world.

Ben froze, his chest tightening as he took in the sight. This was Alex, but not the Alex he’d known. This woman looked like she belonged here, belonged to this life, to this man who held her gaze with a warmth Ben had never managed to give her. The weight of what he’d lost settled in his stomach, sharp and bitter.

The man whispered something, and Alex laughed, the sound spilling into the air like a song. She leaned her head against the man’s shoulder, eyes closing, a look of peace washing over her face. A peace that had never been there when she was with him.

For a moment, he wanted to run to her, to plead, to remind her of all they’d shared. But he knew it would be useless. She was no longer his to claim, no longer the woman waiting by the door, her heart open, hoping he’d choose her completely. She’d become someone he could barely recognize—strong, whole, and untethered from him.

***

Ben wandered the streets for hours, the rain soaking him through, blending with the tears he hadn’t realized he’d shed. He returned to his apartment that night, sitting alone in the dim light, staring at the empty spaces where traces of her had once lingered—a book she’d left, a blanket she’d wrapped herself in on cold nights, a forgotten photograph of them he’d tucked in a drawer.

He realized that all those things she’d left behind had been her way of asking him to stay, to fill the silence with something real. But he’d been too blind, too selfish, to see it. And now, all that remained was a hollow ache, a void he couldn’t fill.

He tried to reach out to her once, a brief message he’d typed and retyped a hundred times before finally sending it: I’m sorry. I miss you.

Days passed without a reply, the silence his only answer. He’d pushed her away, expecting her to stay, believing that love could wait on his terms. But he understood now—some things, once lost, could never be found again.

***

Weeks turned to months, and Ben settled into a new rhythm, one he’d never asked for but couldn’t escape. The emptiness followed him, a quiet reminder of all he’d taken for granted. Every so often, he’d see a flicker of red in a crowded street or hear a laugh that sounded just like hers, and for a moment, he’d forget, caught between memory and reality.

But each time he remembered her words, her parting message to him: If you push me away, I promise you, you won’t find me where you left me.

And he knew now that the last place he would ever find her… was where he’d left her.