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The Heartbreak That Never Heals

I remember the day she left like yesterday, that cold, autumn afternoon in Paris. The colors of the leaves in the Jardin du Luxembourg had shifted from vibrant green to melancholic hues of gold and red, a mirror of my own fading joy. We had spent our last hours together there, the chill of the impending winter seeping into our hearts.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered, her voice trembling with a pain I couldn't comprehend. I remember her eyes, once bright with love and laughter, now lost in an abyss of confusion and sorrow. Her words were like daggers to my heart, leaving wounds that the passing of time refused to heal.

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