Missing you

"Are you missing her? Michelle asked. I looked at my best friend. She was the one I'd told everything too. The one person I felt I could really tell everything too. But not this. Everyone seemed to expect me to be completely cut up about it, everyone expected my head to be in pieces. They treated me delicately, not mentioning you at all. This was the first time it had come up in conversation. I didn't dare admit it to anyone but my self that I wasn't missing you. I didn't feel like there was a part of me missing. I think you leaving made me realise that I can't have loved you, all that much. You can't have been the one that I was destined to be with. My not missing you made me think, if you aren't the one, then where is she?
My parents divorced. I don't think I ever told you that. When I was 9, me and my brother decided that we'd never marry, we'd never get close to anyone. I think that was where we differed, he meant it. I didn't. I always knew that even though my parents split up, they had lots of good times together, and that people have to fail in order to succeed. You can't know that you've found true love unless you've been in a relationship where it hasn't been love. But my brother was furious at them, and as soon as he left home he refused to speak to them. I think he still resents them for it.
Michelle placed the cup of tea that I didn't want down on the table. She placed her own cup in her lap, and tried to add sugar to it. I smiled. Her tongue was stuck out slightly, her face deep in concentration. She glanced up and when she saw me laughing, she flushed a bright red and placed the cup down on the coffee table. Sitting down next to me, I rested back into the sofa and let her snuggle into me.
I owe everything I've ever had to Michelle. She was the one that showed me just how much I would be running away from if I moved to America. She was the one that rehearsed my recipes with me whilst I prepared for my interviews. She was the one who introduced me to you. She was the one that showed me that you can love again.
I first met her when she began dating my best friend, Harvey, I think he was called. It was so many years ago, I can't quite remember. It was my leaving 'do. My bags were packed in the door of my apartment. My plane was booked. The sale had gone through in New York. In a few hours time I would be settling into my penthouse apartment which looked out onto the Empire State Building. I was sitting with a few blonde tarts, chatting them up, half-heartedly telling them they were beautiful, for back then, in my semi-drunken stupor, they were. Michelle took my hand and pulled me over to a dark corner of the club.
"You don't want to go, do you? That was the brilliant thing about her. She always knew exactly what to say. How to save someone from themselves.
Since you left there have been so many thoughts of you, me and us floating around in my head. I've thought of the first time we kissed, the first time we had sex, every single first we experienced together, right down to the last. I think you did the right thing in leaving. I think you knew what was meant for our relationship, and you knew that we weren't ever meant to be together. I also think you know what goes on in my head. I think you know that I believe in love. That every single person has their soul mate, and it's up to them how they find them. So, I hope that you do find yours. Just as I hope I find mine. I hope that both of us never have to experience heart break and hurt again, even though I know that we will. It's all part of life. You have to fail in order to succeed.