She will never stop loving you, even when she’s told to.

How can she move on when her whole world is falling apart, and she is not even holding it together with a string? Kimora stands there as the rain hits her face. She is dressed in a light blue pantsuit and holding flowers as tears stream down her face. Forever together, that is what she was promised; forever together, that is what he said, but he lied, and as she placed the flowers on his grave, she fell to her knees, cursing his name.

“You bastard, how could you do this to me? How could you leave me like this? How come you didn’t take me with you?” she yells as everyone watches her pain. Her long blond hair fell into her face, and she did nothing to brush it away. A picture of a tall, mocha-skinned man with medium-length hair and blue eyes smiles back at her. It was the last picture she would ever get of him, the last time she would see his smile.

She pounds the ground with her fist, her blue suit getting dirty from the mud.

“You promised me, Enzo, that you would never leave me; you promised me, Enzo, that we would grow old together, build a life together, have a family together,” she yells, letting her pain out.

“Yet here I am suffering, wanting nothing more than to touch you again, wanting nothing more than to hear your voice again, wanting nothing more than to kiss your lips just one last time; please just give me one more memory,” she begs, knowing what she was asking for was impossible, he was gone, and she had to move on.

She gets up from the ground and walks to her car, not looking back. She doesn’t want their pity. They don’t understand her pain. She gets into the car and drives home; once there, she opens the door to an empty home.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Kimora, welcome home. I've missed you,” she hears, knowing that it isn’t him, just a faint memory of what he always said to her when she returned from work.

“I’m home, Enzo,” she whispers as she looks around; the beige walls had pictures all over them, and family was on an accent wall towards the left; the color was a light blue color in the back of the house the walls were the same beige, and if you walked a little more, there was a small yet lovely light brown kitchen with a sign that read “We live together we cook together. Kimora walked from the kitchen into their room, where a huge California bed filled with pillows stacked to the top and another light blanket over the duvet. Kimora grabs a towel and gets into the shower. The warm water hits her as memories of him fill her soul.

“Kimora, if you didn’t have the water so hot all the time, I would gladly join you, but not when it is scorching hot. Sorry, dear, but I love my skin intact, not melting off the bone.” He laughed as he sat on the toilet seat in blue jeans and a white shirt with a vest, his hair was braided, and he had just gotten off work that day; he was a college professor and a damn good one at that.

“Come on, Enzo, a little hot water never hurts anyone, she laughed as she splashed him a little; he then took off his vest and grabbed her as she pulled him into the shower with her; he was soaked but smiling as he gently grabbed her face, her green eyes meet his blue, and she smiled as he kissed her. “You know Kimora, you are truly a pain in my ass,” he said against her lips.

“I'm your pain in the ass Mr.,” she replied as he kissed her once again with so much passion.

“She grabs a towel and pulls back the shower curtain. She smiles as she swore she saw Enzo sitting there dressed in his best, smiling at her, but when she blinked, he was gone. How cruel her mind was to her.

Kimora gets dressed in blue sweatpants and a tank top with no bra. Her curvy body looks unwell, yet she doesn’t care; she grabs Enzo’s blanket and wraps herself into it as tears escape her eyes once again.

“I hate you, Enzo,” she whispers to no one in particular. She now rolls over and sees him there smiling. “No, you don’t, Kimora. You can never hate me, for I can never hate you,” he says, then fades into her memories. She now wraps the blanket tighter around her as if she is holding onto what is left of him, for dear life, as if she didn’t want to forget his smell of nature mixed in with a bit of sweat. “I love you, Enzo. I will always love you,” Kimora says as she drifts off to sleep, tears staining her sheets.