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We’d been friends for years, our bond forged over countless shared adventures. But lately, something had shifted. Every shared laugh, every stolen glance, sent a flutter through my heart. I’d started to see him differently, not just as a friend, but as something more.
One evening, as we sat on the cliff's edge, the sky ablaze with the sunset, I took a deep breath. "Mac," I began, my voice barely audible over the crashing waves, "I think I love you."
His eyes, wide with surprise, met mine. A slow smile spread across his face. "I think I feel the same way," he confessed.
As autumn approached, I knew I couldn't imagine my life without Mac. One crisp, fall evening, I planned a surprise. I led him to a secluded spot overlooking the ocean, the same place where we'd first confessed our feelings. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the water, I got down on one knee.
"Mac," I began, my voice trembling with emotion, "you've brought so much joy and love into my life. Will you marry me?"
Tears welled up in his eyes as he nodded, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Yes, of course," he said, pulling me into a tight embrace.
The news came like a cold wave, unexpected and devastating. We had been so excited, our hearts filled with hope for the tiny life growing within me. But fate had other plans. The ultrasound screen, once a source of joy, now held an image of emptiness.
The physical pain eventually subsided, but the emotional wounds lingered. The world seemed muted, joy replaced by a persistent ache. We sought solace in each other, our love a beacon in the darkness.
At first, he tried to control it, to limit his intake. But the grip of addiction was tightening, pulling him deeper into its clutches. Work suffered, friendships frayed, and a growing distance formed between him and the people he loved.