A whole month had gone by since the pair had last seen each other. A whole month that had felt like an eternity to Maisie.
After their breakup, they had decided that they both needed time to heal, to forgive, and to forget, so all contact between the two had been nonexistent. However, thinking about Avett seemed to be the only thing Maisie had done all that time.
She only listened to her lover's songs and to the voice notes she had sent her while they were still together. She read her letters and wore her old shirts that she still kept in her drawer. She wanted her back. No, she needed her back. She felt like nothing without Ave.
But, despite feeling like she had lost a limb without her lover, Maisie hadn't tried to contact her once. She couldn't make herself call her number because she felt guilty. That feeling consumed her since she thought that it was her fault they weren't together anymore, so she convinced herself that the least she could do for Ave was give her time.
However, on the thirty-second morning that Maisie had woken up without her lover by her side, she realized that she couldn't take it any longer. Impulsively, she booked a flight to Ireland, and 24 hours later she found herself knocking on the door to Ave's apartment.
The singer had woken up feeling dizzy that day. She ran to the bathroom to do what had become a routine for her, and when she tried to grab her hair to get it in a ponytail, nothing was there. Only then, Avett remembered that she had shaved her hair the previous night since it had been falling in clumps lately, and she started crying.
She was tired of being sick. She was fed up with acting like everything was fine in her life. She couldn't stand pretending that she didn't miss Maisie, that their breakup had been for the best. However, she hadn't tried to call her little lover to tell her what was going on, to tell her how broken she was and how much she needed her by her side. And she felt guilty that she hadn't told her that she was sick again.
She dried her tears, brushed her teeth, and went downstairs to make herself a coffee. That little routine brought her back to the dreadful morning that took place a month ago, the morning in which her heart was torn apart.
And then, she heard knocking on her door.
