I knew it would happen. He didn't want immortality at the cost of his humanity. He wouldn't be a vampire and I couldn't make him a warlock. I couldn't get rid of my immortality. He had been afraid that he was just another name in a list of those that I had cared for. He might as well have burned the list for all I cared. The world could burn if it meant that I could have him back. I spent years telling him and showing him that he was different. He was my life, my love, everything to me. He still is.

He's gone. He left me alone in the world again. I still help his friends, but I'll never see him again. He took a hit for his parabati and I couldn't get to him in time. His other half can hardly live with himself knowing that my Alexander had died for him. My little mortal who burned so brightly, finally burnt out. My heart died that day.

I wish I had gone with him. I have no purpose, no happiness. His friends worry about me. Even his parents worry for me. They knew me before. They had seen me change with him and for him. They watch me as I fall apart without my Alexander.

I don't throw parties; it reminds me of how we met. I don't wear any sparkly or sequined or bedazzled clothing because he had always said that it brought too much attention. I don't wear make-up and I don't style my hair. I help those that my Alexander loved, but I do not charge them. I don't have as many clients now, either.

This apartment held so many moments. When we first met I chose him over his parabati. His first kiss, when I kissed him goodbye. Every time that he sought my help, he trusted me. He moved in. The day I came home after we broke up, it felt as though I'd never be whole again. I wrote down my past and he read it after saving me from my father. I told him that I'd only get married when we could marry in gold. We never got the chance.

My friends worry too much. I talk to him before I go to sleep and after I wake up. I see him everywhere all the time. I see our disastrous first date and all the other dates that followed. I see the wars as he fought with such beauty and grace. My friends say that it isn't healthy. Even Tessa says so. She doesn't understand. Will died, but she has Jem. Alexander isn't coming home.

I meant what I said so long ago: there will never be a next time. There hasn't and won't ever be another. How could I live with myself if I broke a promise I made to him? I don't bother dying because as horrible living is, I can still see those that he loved. If I were to die, I would not even have that mercy. I would be forever separated from Alexander, his family, and their descendants. So here I stay, trapped in memories and the fantasy of forever. I stay and wait. I watch each day, month, year go by and I die all over again.