Found her notebook addressed to me, but...

It's empty.

She had never written a single word in this book since we started dating. (She stopped calling me Rea when we were married.) Why is it that when life literally gave me lemons and I don't have the energy to make lemonade, the book that I was supposed to read turns out to be empty? She also made a note on an app one day before her death, telling me to read it, but it's also empty! And when she breathed her last breath, I wasn't even in the ER to hear what she wanted to say...

We were almost a hive mind, me and her. We used to do the thing that twins in cartoons do, like finishing each other's sentences. She used to joke that we shared a telepathic bond. When she craved for a random food, for example, I'd suddenly crave it too even before she told me. With her gone, it's as if half of my mind is gone. Nobody can function normally with only half a mind.

She just rediscovered her love of art during our marriage. She was once a painter, back before we met. But she abandoned that dream for a stable job. While living with me, she learned pixel art and low-poly modeling. I like seeing her absorbed in art. Her happiness always spread to me. But I can't see her anymore.

Tonight is the second week of her death. I hate Mondays. Life is hollow without her living by my side. A world that didn't give her the chance to say her last words is not a world for me.