When Our Love Became a Stranger
I remember the day our love became a stranger vividly. It was a cool, autumn afternoon in the heart of London. The city was buzzing with life, the Thames River reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun, and Big Ben looming majestically against the evening sky. Yet, as I strolled along the cobblestone streets of Covent Garden, a frigid emptiness coursed through my veins.
You see, it was in this very city that we had first met, under the watchful eyes of the grand British Museum. You were a vision of beauty as you perused ancient artefacts, your eyes brimming with curiosity. But on this day, those same eyes looked past me, as if I were a ghost, and our shared history a forgotten dream.
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