jay

★Welcome to Jay’s Index★

#”let your colors bleed and blend with mine.”

♕ She/Her | Minor | Filo | Bi ♔ I write fluff and angst (only girl groups. MDNI) ♖ Request is currently closed! ♗ I don't write NSFW.

— ✮ Masterlist ✮

#”please tell me im not as forgettable as your silence is making me feel.”

Awww thank you so much for that!!

a sophia laforteza fic.

"And I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did." - Olivia Rodrigo

part 1, part 2

synopsis: you spent so long teaching yourself not to need too much from sophia that affection from her started feeling foreign. pairing: sophia laforteza x fem!reader genre: angst warnings!: please proceed with caution as this includes; medicine, overdosing, hospital, bleeding, severe neglect of mental and physical health. A/N: here's part 2 mga erp (olivia is gonna pay for my therapy). Sori for the late upload, school sucks so bad🫩

sophia started noticing things after that night.

not everything, just enough to realize something had changed.

you answered messages slower now. your laughter sounded quieter somehow, softer around the edges as though you were carefully measuring how much of yourself you allowed people to see. even your smiles had become difficult to read.

sophia noticed all of it and she hated them.

the problem was that she thought she could still fix it. and maybe, months ago, she could have.

maybe the version of you that used to wait excitedly beside your phone at two in the morning would have healed instantly beneath this sudden gentleness from her. maybe the version of you that still believed love came naturally would have melted beneath the extra attention, the affection, the way sophia now reached for your hand before you even had to ask.

but that version of you no longer existed.

sophia texted more often these days. she called whenever she had free time between schedules. sent voice messges reminding you to eat properly. started showing up unexpectedly at your apartment with tired eyes and takeout containers balanced carefully in her hands.

"i missed you," she whispered one evening while wrapping her arms around your waist from behind.

your chest tightened painfully.

because all you could think was: why now?

the thought arrived before warmth ever could.

why now, after months of feeling invisible beside her? why now, after teaching yourself not to need too much because wanting attention only made you feel pathetic? why now, when your body physically flinched at affection you once begged endlessly for?

sophia pressed a gentle kiss against your shoulder.

you froze for half a second, just half. but sophia still noticed. you felt it immediately in the way her arms loosened slightly around you.

"baby?" she asked softly.

guilt crashed into you instantly. you forced yourself to relax before turning around quickly enough to smile reassuringly at her.

"i'm okay," you said automatically.

there it was again, that same sentence. that horrible, familiar sentence that had slowly started replacing every honest thing you ever wanted to say.

sophia searched your face carefully for a moment longer before nodding, but she looked unconvinced now and somehow, that only made things worse.

because sophia was trying. god, she was trying so hard. anyone else probably would have felt love by now.

instead, you spent most nights laying awake wondering whether this sudden affection came from guilt instead of love. whether someone had noticed how miserable you looked recently and said something to her. or whether sophia was forcing herself to become softer because she felt responsible for the quiet sadness permanently settled beneath your skin now.

you hated those thoughts. hated yourself for doubting her. but neglect changes people in ugly ways. it teaches them that affection is temporary, that attention disappeares eventually, that love must be earned carefully or risk being taken away.

and the terrifying thing was that your body remembered all of it even while sophia held you gently against her chest now. as though hurt repeated long enough had rewired something inside you permanently.

that night, after sophia fell asleep beside you, you cried quietly in the bathroom with your hands pressed tightly over your mouth to keep the sound in.

why must we feel the same?

not because sophia had hurt you again, but because she hadn't. you had grown so used to the pain she gave you that one tiny bit of affection from her now feels like someone dumped a cold water over you.

-

the next morning, sophia noticed your swollen eyes immediately. her hands reached for your face before you could look away.

"did you sleep at all?" she asked quietly.

you nodded too fast.

sophia frowned, you hated that frown now. not because it was harsh, but because it was worried, genuine and careful. the kind of expression you used to crave from her so desperately that you would have given anything just to feel noticed like this.

now, it only made guilt settle heavier inside your chest.

"i'm fine." you murmured.

sophia stayed silent for a moment before softly saying. "you've been saying that a lot lately."

let her pretend she's fine. it's the only comfort she knows.

the words wrapped around your throat painfully. because the terrifying part was that sophia sounded hurt by it now, as though she could finally hear the distance hidden inside those words.

i beg god to let her notice how bad she's hurting me.

you looked away first.

"i just haven't been sleeping properly," you explained quietly.

another lie.

or maybe not entirely a lie.

you did sleep... sometimes.

your body was just too exhausted for it to feel restful anymore.

sophia's thumb brushed gently beneath your eye, wiping away something invisible there before she sighed softly.

"you need to stop dealing with everything alone."

will you carry my burdens with me? no, i don't wanna stress you more.

that sentence nearly broke you.

because wasn't that ironic? you had spent months trying to deal with things alone specifically so sophia would not feel burdened by you. and now she was asking why you never leaned on her.

because if i did, im scared you won't catch me when i break down.

your chest hurt, not sharply anymore, just constantly.

like grief had settled permanently somewhere beneath your ribs and decided to stay there.

sophia leaned down to press a quick kiss against your forehead before standing from the bed.

"i'll make breakfast, okay?" she murmured.

you watched her leave the room quietly then stared at the doorway long after she disappeared.

months ago, moments like this would have healed you instantly. sophia staying over, sophia kissing your forehead first thing in the morning, sophia noticing when your eyes looked tired.

you used to ache for this version of her so badly it physically hurt sometimes. now all you could think about was how temporary and forced it felt.

the thought disgusted you immediately. sophia was trying, why couldn't you just let yourself be happy?

how could you let yourself be happy when it all seems very unusual, so foreign, so weird, and so random.

you buried your face into your hands tiredly. maybe something was genuinely wrong with you.

there is, your inability to accept good things.

because sophia loved you now, didn't she? more than before, at least. so why did every soft thing she did only remind you of how desperately you once begged for it?

why did being cared for suddenly make you want to cry?

i ask myself the same thing every day.

your phone buzzed beside you, a text from marseille, a close friend of yours.

hey, bunso. haven't seen you in forever:(

you stared at the message blankly. you had been distant from her and the others lately too. not intentionally, you were just tired all the time now. tired in ways sleep no longer fixed. tired in ways you did not know how to explain without sounding dramatic.

she sent you another message moments later.

sophia with you again?

you hesitated before replying.

yeah

the typing bubble appeared immediately then disappeared, then appeared again. finally:

are you okay?

your throat tightened unexpectedly. you stared at those three words for a long time. because lately, that question felt less like concern and more like something dangerous. something capable of unraveling you completely if asked too gently.

from the kitchen, sophia laughed softly at something playing on the television, warm, normal and loving.

you looked back down at your phone then typed the same lie that had followed you through every stage of this relationship.

i'm okay, rie:)

-

the thing about loneliness is that it becomes familiar if you sit with it long enough.

at first it hurts, then it lingers. like a stain that you desperately tried to wash off and remove from your body but instead of disappearing, it grew larger and larger until you're suffocating. that feeling that has glued itself to you that you no longer recognize what it feels like to not have it.

you ask yourself why.

then one day, you wake up and realized you've started making room for it that's why.

it follows you everywhere, in the quiet moments between conversations, in the silence after phone calls end, in the empty side of the bed whenever sophia leaves before sunrise.

you carry it so naturally that nobody notices the weight of it anymore. not even you, especially not you.

sophia was trying, you knew that.

you saw it in every good morning text. every random phone call squeezed between schedules. every gentle touch that lingered a little longer than before.

months ago, you would have fallen apart from happiness. months ago, this was everything you wanted. now, it only left you confused.

because if this was what love was supposed to feel like, then why did your chest still ache every night?

why did you still find yourself staring at the ceiling long after everyone else had gone to sleep?

why did every act of affection make you wonder when it would disappear again?

the thought haunted you. not because you believed sophia would leave, but because affection now feels so foreign. weird. scary.

and that wasn't sophia's fault, not entirely, of course. but it wasn't yours either.

hurt has a way of reshaping people, quietly and slowly. until one day you realize you've become someone you barely recognize.

your friends noticed it first, the exhaustion, the distant smiles, the way conversations seemed to drift around you instead of through you.

one of them stopped you after lunch one afternoon.

"are you okay?"

such a simple question and yet it made you almost laughed. not because it was funny, because nobody seemed to realize how impossible that question had become.

were you okay?

you honestly didn't know anymore.

you were tired, so unbelievably tired.

not sleepy, not physically exhausted, just tired. tired of pretending things didn't hurt, tired of overthinking every interaction, tired of convincing yourself that needing people made you difficult to love. most of all, you were tired of carrying everything alone.

but habits are difficult things to break. so instead, you smiled and said the only answer anyone ever expected from you.

"i'm fine."

your friend didn't look convinced, you weren't either.

that night, your apartment felt quieter than usual, the kind of silence that presses against your chest, the kind that makes every thought sound impossibly louder.

your phone sat beside you on the couch, messages from sophia, messages from your friends. people reaching for you, people trying. and somehow, despite all of it, you still felt unbearably alone.

you hated yourself for that.

sophia was trying. god, she was trying.

so why couldn't you just be happy?

the question repeated itself over and over until it became impossible to separate from your own thoughts.

maybe something was wrong with you. maybe that's why affection felt foreign now, maybe that's why every kind gesture made you want to cry. maybe that's why no matter how hard sophia tried to pull you closer, you still felt like you were slipping further away from everyone around you.

including yourself, especially yourself.

you lowered your hear into your hands and closed your eyes. for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to admit something you had been avoiding for months.

you weren't okay.

and the terrifying part was that you had no idea how to fix it.

-

the room was spinning, you can barely see because of how your vision had blurred in the span of a few minutes.

you can feel it in your bones, your body was aching. begging you to get some help.

you had pushed yourself too far from your own limits, barely eating, barely sleeping, always worrying, always thinking.

you wanted to drown out the voices in your head, you silence your thoughts just for a few minutes so you took it upon yourself to not rest until things got quiet.

you didn't tell sophia. i mean, why would you?

worrying her would only make you feel worse than ever and you don't want her worried, so you decided to keep your feelings to yourself. the constant headaches, dizziness, that annoying tightening of your chest whenever you're doing absolutely nothing.

your breathing became more uneven as time passes, you can't take it anymore. due to your frustration at yourself and everything that's been going on.

you stumbled into the bathroom, your legs trembling beneath your weight, the mirror caught your reflection, pale and hollow-eyed.

god, what a mess you had become.

you froze. pathetic, you cursed yourself slightly, gripping the sink as your vision goes in and out, you can feel as if your lungs were being pressed down, your heart being squeezed without mercy.

your ears are ringing, the dizziness downed in like a fog that's getting thicker, making it harder to think, harder to breathe.

the bathroom light was too harsh, too revealing. you clung to the sink, your knuckles turning white, staring at the stranger in the mirror. your reflection wavering, blurring at edges, as if even the glass couldn't even bear to hold your image steady.

as if the glass itself is breaking under the weight of your suffering.

weak. useless. always failing. always breaking.

those words echoed in your skull, louder than your own heartbeat.

the room tilted, shadows stretching unnaturally across the titles. you blinked, but the reflection blinked slower, almost mocking you.

you're not even real anymore. you thought, a bitter laugh catching in your throat.

sweat started dripping from your forehead onto your neck and down, your hands moved without clarity, fumbling open the cabinet. bottles rattled like bones in grave, the sound sharp and accusing. you grabbed one, then another, your fingers clumsy, your mind fogged.

you were done. done with you body always failing you, done with the exhaustion that clung stubbornly to your bones no matter how much you rested. done with the headaches. the dizziness. the weakness that seemed determined to follow you everywhere.

most of all, you were done feeling like a burden.

everything felt infuriating, the apartment, the silence, your own reflection staring back at you from the bathroom mirror, even the concern in people's voices had started to irritate you. because no matter how many times someone asked if you were okay, nothing changed.

you were still tired. still hurting. still sick.

the loneliness that had followed you for months no longer felt familiar, somewhere along the way, it had changed into something else. something sharper, something uglier. you couldn't tell if it was anger, hatred, resentment.

maybe it was all three, maybe it was none of them.

you're scared of those, you never knew how to handle such strong emotion as them, you were so used to bottling up everything to yourself that once it exploded unexpectedly, the damage hurts you in ways you can't explain.

you hate yourself when you're mad, hate yourself when you're calm. hate yourself in every possible way.

all you knew was that it sat heavily beneath your ribs, twisting tighter every day until itself felt exhausting. but you were angry, angry at your body for refusing to cooperate. angry at yourself for becoming someone people worried about. angry at the tears that never seemed to stop. angry at the fact that sophia was finally trying and you still couldn't figure out how to feel better.

the unfairness of it all made your chest ache. because she was finally trying. and somehow, despite all of that effort, despite all of that love, you still felt broken.

you pressed your eyes close tightly until stars burst behind them, a frustrated sound escaped your throat, you were tired of crying, tired of overthinking, tired of carrying emotions that seemed too heavy for your own heart.

you shakily brought your trembling hand up, lightly hitting the side of your head until the rhythm became harder and faster. your head was loud. too fucking loud.

for so long, you had blamed yourself for feeling lonely. now, standing alone in the cold bathroom, something inside you finally snapped. not loudly, not dramatically, just enough for the truth to settle uncomfortably inside your chest.

you weren't angry because nobody cared. you were angry because they did. and somehow, even surrounded by people who loved you, you still don't know how to save yourself.

the labels blurred into nonsense. you didn't care, you just wanted silence from the spinning, from the voice that kept whispering pathetic.

you poured too many pills into your palm, the weight of them heavy, almost comforting. your reflection seemed to sneer as you swallowed them, chasing the bitterness with water that burned down your throat.

the dizziness didn't fade. it grew. the tiles beneath her feet seemed to pulse, the mirror warping, your own face stracthing into something grotesque.

your thoughts fractured: did i take too many? did i even count? will this finally silence everything?

but the question dissolved into static as your knees buckled and you slid down against the cabinet, the cold floor pressing into you skin. you pressed your forehead to your knees, whispering curses you couldn't finish, words breaking apart before they left your lips.

and because you were stubborn, because you were angry at yourself, you forced your body upright. your legs trembled, your vision swayed, and before you could take another step your knees buckled. the fall was sudden, merciless.

the cold bathroom floor met you with a violent thud, your head slamming down hard enough to make the world go white for a moment. then came the warmth, a slow, sticky trickle sliding down your temple. you couldn't see it clearly, but the metallic scent filled the air, and the dark red spreading across the tiles told you everything.

blood. fast. too fast.

your thoughts scattered, fragments of curses and pleas tangle together. you tried to move, but your body felt weightless, unresponsive, as if it had already given up. then nothing.

—

the next thing you noticed was the steady beeping, slow, rhythmic and annoyingly consistent.

your eyelids felt impossibly heavy as you forced them open, the harsh white lights above blurring together before gradually coming into focus. everything ached. even breathing felt unfamiliar.

you blinked once then twice.

“…You’re awake.”

the voice was hoarse.

you slowly turn your head, finding your friend rie standing near the window, she looked exhausted, her hands were shaking, dark circles under her eyes that almost looked as noticeable as the relief that washed over her face.

you wanted to say something, anything. maybe a hello or just a small smile. but you couldn’t move yourself, it was as if you were paralyzed by fear because of that look on her face.

“…you scared me.”

her words came out barely above a whisper.

“i’ve been waiting for hours.”

your throat felt dry and sore.

“what… happened?”

she lets out a shaky breath, running her hands through her messy curly hair.

“i came over because you weren’t answering your phone,” she swallowed hard. “the door was unlocked, that was scared me first. then it was silent.”

silence settled between you two, already knowing what happened next but neither of you wanted to say it.

“i… i found you on the bathroom floor.”

the room felt impossibly still.

your gaze drifted toward the blanket covering your lap. “oh…”

she stared at you for a moment, like she was trying to figure out something. that stare of hers never fails to scare you because you know she can get pass the walls you built around yourself with just one look.

but this time, she looked helpless.

“what happened?”

you looked away.

“it was nothing.”

“it wasn’t nothing.”

“i’m fine.”

the words left your mouth a bit harsher than necessary.

the room went unbearably quiet after that, she looked unsure of what to say next.

“no.”

you blinked, your heart was slowly beating faster now.

“what?”

“no, you’re not.”

silence.

“you don’t get to say that anymore, not after what happened.”

the sharpness in her voice caught you off guard.

“i found you collapsed,” she continued, swallowing hard. “you weren’t answering your phone. i thought…” she stopped, shaking her head, “i thought i was too late.”

“the amount of blood that was on the floor scared me so much.”

you looked down on your shaking hands.

“im sorry.”

“stop apologizing.”

the words were louder this time.

“i don’t want another apology.”

another silence settled between you.

she rubbed a hand over her face before looking at you.

“y/n… what happened?” she let out a tired sigh.

“..nothing.”

“what. happened.”

“i just wasn’t feeling well.”

“you’ve ‘just not been feeling well’ for months.” she let out a bitter laugh. “you really don’t think i notice?”

you felt your chest tighten, marseille has always been someone you can’t lie to, she knows you too well.

“it’s nothing.”

“stop saying that!”

her voice echoed through the room.

you flinched.

marseille noticed immediately.

she closed her eyes for a brief second, trying to steady herself.

it didn’t work.

“no,” she said, shaking her head. “no, I’m done.”

you stared at her.

“every single time someone asks if you’re okay, it’s ‘I’m fine.’ every headache? ‘I’m fine.’ every time you look like you’re about to collapse? ‘I’m fine.’”

“i didn’t want anyone to worry.”

“well, congratulations!” she threw her hands into the air. “look where that got us!”

silence crashed between the two of you.

your throat tightened. “i told you, it’s just—”

“DON’T.” her voice broke. “don’t you dare tell me it’s ‘just’ anything.”

the room suddenly felt too small. marseille’s eyes were red now.

“when was the last time you actually ate without someone reminding you?”

you stayed quiet.

“when was the last time you slept?”

silence.

“when was the last time you were honest with anyone?”

your jaw clenched.

“when was the last time you actually told sophia the truth of what you’re going through?”

you froze.

“i don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I WANT THE TRUTH!” the words ripped out of her.

“i want you to stop looking me in the eye and pretending everything’s okay when it’s so obviously not!”

tears burned behind your eyes.

“you think I wanted this?” you let out a scoff in disbelief.

“then tell me what happened!”

“I CAN’T!”

your own voice surprised you.

it came out louder than you intended, raw and broken.

marseille froze.

“you can’t…” she whispered.

“no!”

you were crying now, anger mixing with months of exhaustion.

“i can’t!”

your breathing became uneven in a way that feels like gasping for air that won’t enter your lungs.

“i don’t know how!”

the confession hung between you.

“i don’t know how to explain what im feeling…” your shoulders shook violently. “because every time i try, i feel like an attention seeker just for wanting a bit of reassurance.”

marseille stood frozen.

“so instead, i kept thinking it’d get better.” your voice cracked. “i kept thinking that if i just waited… if I stopped bothering anyone… if i could just handle it myself.”

a sobbed escaped before you could even stop it, then another.

“I didn’t want anyone to think I was too much.” you breathed in deep, trying to ease the crying mess you had become. “so i just shut myself, but i don’t want to do that, rie.”

marseille’s face crumpled.

“you could never be too much.”

“i already was!” you cried out.

“i was always tired. always sad. always needing something.” you gripped your hair tightly. “i couldn’t keep asking people to carry me.”

“i already am a burden to myself, i couldn’t bear being one to someone else.” you said through gritted teeth, “but, rie. im so so so tired of not being able to tell people what i feel.”

for the first time since walking into the room, marseille didn’t know what to say. all the frustrations she’d been carrying dissolved into heartbreak. watching you like this was already too much, but hearing your reason made her world shatter.

marseille was disappointed at herself for not being able to read you like you do with people, for not being able to notice how much you’ve been suffering all alone, for not noticing how hard you’re trying to talk.

“does sophia know?” she asked quietly.

you shook your head rapidly.

“no… rie please don’t tell her.” you begged.

marseille let out an exhausted sigh, “why not? sophia needs to know what’s going on.”

“i know but please, she already has too much on her shoulders, i don’t want to be a burden.”

“you’re never a burden to her.”

“we never know.”

for a long moment, marseille simply looked at you. then she laughed.

it wasn’t amused, it was the kind of laugh that came from someone who no longer knew whether to cry or scream.

“why are you like this when it comes to her?”

“what?”

“why do you always think about what she’s feeling instead of yours? why do you always make sure she’s okay when you can even barely get out of bed? why do you keep on choosing to protect her from your pain?!” her voice grew louder again.

“marseille…”

“no.”

she shook her head.

“no, explain that to me.”

you lowered your gaze.

“she finally has so much going on. schedules, interviews, rehearsals…” your voice grew quieter with every word. “she’s already exhausted.”

“and you think this wouldn’t matter to her? and you think you’re not exhausted too?”

“i don’t want to make it worse.”

“you are not making anything worse.”

“i don’t want her to feel guilty.”

marseille’s face fell.

“…you’re still protecting her.”

silence.

even now. even after everything.

you were still thinking about how this might affect sophia before you thought about yourself.

“i just…” your voice cracked. “i don’t want her blaming herself.”

marseille walked back to your bedside.

“you’ve spent months convincing yourself that your pain is something other people have to be protected from.”

you said nothing.

“and that’s breaking my heart.”

tears gathered in your eyes again.

“if she finds out…” you whispered, “she’ll think she failed me.”

marseille knelt beside the bed.

“maybe she’ll be scared.”

you looked at her.

“maybe she’ll cry.”

another tear slipped down your cheek.

“but don’t you dare decide for her that she’d rather not know.”

you bit your lip hard enough for it to hurt.

“i don’t know how to tell her.”

“you don’t have to have the perfect words.”

your breathing became uneven.

“what if she looks at me differently?”

marseille’s eyes softened.

“what if she doesn’t?”

the question lingered between you.

“what if,” she continued gently, “she looks at you and realizes you’ve been carrying all of this alone because you were afraid of being a burden?”

you closed your eyes.

“i don’t want her to pity me.”

“i don’t think she will.”

marseille reached over, carefully brushing a tear from your cheek.

“i think she’ll wish she’d known sooner.”

your lips trembled.

“please…”

the plea came out broken.

“just… give me a little more time.”

—

sophia noticed long before anyone said the words.

it was the silence. not yours. but everyone else’s.

messages that were answered with one-word replies. group chats that suddenly went quiet whenever she asked how you were doing. conversations that ended too quickly, reassurance that sounded more like avoidance than comfort.

at first, she convinced herself she was imagining it.

then you stopped answering her calls. the first one went to voicemail. the second rang until it died. by the fifth, her stomach had begun to knot itself into something she couldn’t explain.

she called aisha.

once.

twice.

three times.

the fourth call finally connected.

“…hey.”

aisha’s voice sounded strange. too careful.

“aisha.”

“…yeah?”

“what’s going on?”

a pause.

“what do you mean?”

sophia closed her eyes.

“please.”

another silence.

“don’t do that.”

“you all keep acting like you’re hiding something from me.”

still nothing.

“and no one’s talking about her.”

another silence.

sophia’s chest tightened. “is she okay?”

aisha inhaled slowly.

“…she’s safe.” safe. not okay.

sophia noticed the difference immediately. her grip around her phone tightened.

“what happened?”

“…i promised.”

“promised who?”

“…her.”

everything inside sophia went still.

“she asked us not to tell you.”

“…why?” the question barely sounded like her own voice.

aisha let out a tired sigh. “because she didn’t want you to worry.”

sophia frowned. “…what?”

“that’s all she ever worried about.”

the words didn’t register.

“what i’d think?”

“no.” aisha corrected gently. “what you’d feel.”

silence.

“if she was sick…” aisha continued quietly. “…she didn’t tell you because she thought you’d blame yourself.”

sophia’s lips parted.

“if she had a bad day…” another pause. “…she’d tell us not to text you.”

“‘sophia’s already stressed.’”

“‘she has enough on her plate.’”

“‘don’t make her worry.’”

every sentence landed heavier than the last.

“if she missed you…” aisha’s voice faltered. “…she’d type out a message, then she’d delete it.”

sophia covered her mouth.

“she’d stare at your chat for ten minutes,” aisha whispered.

“and then she’d tell herself…” her voice became almost impossibly soft. “‘she’ll call when she has time.’”

tears blurred sophia’s vision.

aisha wasn’t finished. “you know what she’d say whenever marseille or i told her she should lean on you?”

sophia squeezed her eyes shut.

“…what?”

“‘i don’t want to make her feel guilty.’”

another sentence.

“‘she finally has time to rest.’”

another.

“‘i’ll be okay.’”

sophia felt her breathing become uneven. “stop…”

aisha’s own voice trembled.

“no, i cant. not anymore.”

sophia leaned against the kitchen counter as her knees threatened to give out.

“…i didn’t know.”

“i know.” aisha answered immediately. “i know you love her.”

“then why…” sophia’s voice cracked. “…why would she think she couldn’t come to me?”

there was a long silence. long enough that sophia wondered if the call had ended.

then aisha spoke. “because somewhere along the way…”

she paused.

“…she stopped believing she was allowed to.”

sophia froze.

“you never told her she was a burden.”

“you never asked her to stop depending on you.”

“but every time she chose your feelings over her own…” aisha swallowed.

“…every time she convinced herself, ‘don’t bother sophia’…”

“…and every time she said ‘i’m okay’ when she wasn’t…” her voice finally broke. “…she was teaching herself how to survive on scraps of you.”

the words knocked the air from sophia’s lungs.

every late reply she’d promised she’d make up for. every canceled dinner. every “i’m okay.” every “don’t worry about me.” every smile she’d accepted because it looked convincing enough.

she had mistaken them for patience. for understanding. for independence. she had never stopped to wonder what they had cost you.

a tear slipped down her cheek. then another.

“…i thought…” her voice was barely audible. “…i thought she was just giving me space.”

aisha let out a shaky breath. “no.”

another silence.

“she was making herself smaller.”

sophia couldn’t speak.

“she loved you so much…” aisha whispered. “…that she’d rather carry everything alone than risk becoming another thing you had to carry.

the call fell silent.

and for the first time in months, sophia understood that the greatest mistake she had made wasn’t missing the signs.

it was unknowingly teaching the person she loved that needing her was something to apologize for.

—

sophia stood outside your hospital room for almost ten minutes.

she knew because she’d counted them.

one hundred and forty-seven breaths.

three nurses passing by. two visitors leaving the room across the hall. the coffee in her hand had long since gone cold.

she still couldn’t bring herself to open the door. a part of her wanted to turn around. not because she didn’t want to see you. because she was terrified that she already had.

that the person waiting on the other side of that door wasn’t the same person she’d fallen in love with.

the thought made her stomach twist.

her hand hovered over the doorknob. she hesitated.

how were you supposed to face someone after learning they’d spent months teaching themselves not to need you?

how were you supposed to apologize for something you never realized you were doing?

how do you say i’m sorry to someone who had spent every ounce of their strength making sure you never had to?

the answer was—you couldn’t. not with words. not anymore.

sophia let out a slow, shaky breath before finally pushing the door open.

the room was quiet. the television was off. the blinds had been left halfway open, allowing the afternoon sunlight to spill across the floor in thin golden lines.

you were awake.

sitting against the raised hospital bed with a blanket draped over your legs, your attention fixed on the window as though the world outside was somehow more interesting than the one inside these four walls.

you looked… smaller. not physically.

just…quieter. the kind of quiet that didn’t come from peace. the kind that came from carrying too much for far too long.

sophia felt her chest tighten.

you turned at the sound of the door. for a brief moment, surprise crossed your face.

then, just as quickly, it disappeared beneath the same small smile she’d seen a hundred times before. the smile that now broke her heart.

“…hi.”

your voice was soft.

careful. as though you were the one worried about making her uncomfortable. sophia couldn’t answer. not immediately.

because all she could hear was aisha’s voice.

she was making herself smaller.

she loved you so much… that she’d rather carry everything alone than risk becoming another thing you had to carry.

her throat burned. she forced herself to smile anyway.

“…hi.”

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. it was unfamiliar.

months ago, one of you would’ve filled it with stories about your day, complaints about schedules, jokes that only the two of you understood.

now it simply sat between you. heavy.

sophia stepped farther into the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

neither of you moved. neither of you seemed to know how.

she looked at the chair beside your bed. then back at you.

“…can i sit with you?”

it was such a small question. one she’d never thought to ask before.

you blinked. almost as if the question itself had caught you off guard.

“…of course.”

sophia pulled the chair closer, careful not to let it scrape too loudly against the floor.

for a while, neither of you spoke. the steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the room instead.

sophia glanced at you.

you were already looking down at your hands, absentmindedly twisting the edge of the blanket between your fingers. a nervous habit.

one she’d seen countless times. one she’d never really noticed. not until now.

“i’m sorry.” the words escaped before she could stop them.

immediately, your head lifted.

“no.” you answered too quickly. “don’t.”

sophia’s heart sank.

there it was again—that instinct.

the need to protect her. even now. even here. even after everything.

you were still trying to make sure she didn’t carry any of your pain.

“…don’t?” her voice was barely above a whisper.

you looked away.

“you don’t have to apologize.”

“but i do.”

“you really don’t.”

“i really do.”

silence settled between the two of you again. you forced out a small smile. the same smile. the one that always looked convincing enough.

“it’s okay.”

sophia closed her eyes.

for the first time since walking into the room, she felt tears sting behind them.

“no.”

the word slipped out before she could stop it. when she looked at you again, there was something desperate in her expression.

“please…” her voice trembled. “…please stop saying that.”

you frowned slightly. “sophia—”

“no.” she shook her head. “not this time.”

your lips parted, but no words came.

“i’ve been hearing those two words for months.”

she laughed softly. it sounded nothing like laughter.

“‘it’s okay.’”

“you’d say it when i cancelled plans.”

“‘it’s okay.’”

“when i forgot to call.”

“‘it’s okay.’”

“when i left you waiting because rehearsal ran late.” she swallowed.

“and every single time…” her eyes began to glisten. “…i believed you.”

you lowered your gaze. “i thought you understood.”

“i did.”

sophia nodded.“i understood that you loved me.”

a tear slipped down her cheek.

“what i didn’t understand…” her voice cracked. “was that every ‘it’s okay’ was another thing you were forcing yourself to carry alone.”

the room fell quiet.

you stared at the blanket gathered in your hands. your fingers twisted the fabric tighter.

“i wasn’t forcing myself.” the words came quietly.

“i just…” you paused. “…didn’t want to make things harder.”

“for who?”

you didn’t answer.

“for me?”

another silence. you hated how quickly she had found the answer.

“it wasn’t your responsibility.”

“it felt like it.”

the confession escaped before you could pull it back. sophia’s shoulders fell.

“you were already exhausted.”

your voice remained small.

“i saw how tired you were every day.”

“you were tired too.”

“i know.”

“so why was i the only one you were protecting?”

you blinked.

because you didn’t know. or maybe because you had known for so long that you had forgotten there was ever another way.

“i just wanted you to rest.”

sophia stared at you. “and what about you?”

you smiled again. it was automatic. you feel like a robot.

“i’m—”

“don’t.”

the word came gently this time. not angry. not frustrated.

just…heartbroken.

“please.”

she leaned forward, resting her elbows against her knees.

“don’t tell me you’re okay.”

your smile disappeared. for the first time since she’d entered the room, you didn’t know what to say.

the silence stretched. long enough that the steady rhythm of the monitor became louder than either of your breathing.

sophia spoke first. “aisha told me something.”

you looked up.

“she said…” sophia swallowed around the lump in her throat.

“…that somewhere along the way…you stopped believing you were allowed to need me.”

your chest tightened. you looked away almost immediately. that was answer enough.

sophia felt her heart break all over again. “i kept thinking you were giving me space.”

a sad smile crossed her face. “i thought you were just… independent.”

you let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “i used to call you over everything.”

“you did.”

“i’d complain about my classes.”

a small nod.

“i’d text you when i couldn’t sleep.”

another.

“i’d tell you every stupid little thing that happened during my day.”

sophia smiled faintly through her tears. “i remember.”

you looked down at your hands. “i don’t know when i stopped.” neither of you did.

maybe there hadn’t been a single moment. maybe it had happened one unanswered message at a time.

one postponed date.

one “i’ll call you later.”

one “i’m really busy.”

one “it’s okay.”

until eventually…you stopped reaching altogether. your voice came out so quietly sophia almost missed it.

“i think…” you paused, searching for words that had never needed to exist before. “…i forgot how.”

sophia frowned. “forgot what?”

you looked at her then, really looked at her. eyes tired, red and honest.

“i forgot how to need you.”

the words hung in the room. neither loud nor dramatic. just true.

“i spent so long telling myself that loving you meant asking for less…” your voice shook.

“…that when you finally had more to give…” a tear rolled down your cheek. “…i didn’t know how to receive it anymore.”

every apology she’d prepared dissolved before it reached her lips.

there wasn’t one big mistake to undo. there wasn’t one conversation that could give you back the months you’d spent teaching yourself not to reach for her.

there was only this moment. and the quiet grief of realizing love had survived even if trust had been worn thin.

slowly, cautiously, she reached her hand across the space between you. not insisting. not expecting. just offering.

“i don’t know how to fix what’s already happened,” she whispered. “…and i’m not going to pretend i can.”

her hand remained where it was. open. waiting.

“but if you’ll let me…” she looked at you through tear-filled eyes. “…i’d like to learn how to be someone you can lean on again.”

the room was silent.

you looked at her hand. then at your own. your fingers twitched.

for a moment…you couldn’t move.

not because you didn’t want to. because somewhere deep inside you, your heart was still asking the same frightened question it had been asking for months.

what if this doesn’t last?

you hated that the thought was there. you hated it even more because it felt familiar.

sophia didn’t rush you. she didn’t move her hand any closer.

she simply waited. patiently.

as though, for the first time, she understood that healing wasn’t something she could ask of you. it was something she had to earn.

slowly, your hand found hers.

the touch was light and fragile. nothing like it used to be. but you didn’t let go and neither did she.

maybe love isn’t always loud.

maybe it isn’t found in grand gestures, promises, or apologies spoken through tears. maybe it’s in the quiet decision to stay.

to listen.

to learn.

to admit that loving someone also means unlearning the ways you’ve hurt them.

because love alone doesn’t heal people.

effort does.

patience does.

honesty does.

and sometimes, the bravest thing two people can do isn’t pretending nothing happened—it’s choosing each other anyway, while carrying the truth between them.

if you ever find yourself loving someone who has grown quiet, don’t mistake their silence for strength.

sometimes, silence is only another name for survival.

and if you are the one who has learned to carry everything alone, i hope one day you remember that love was never meant to be carried by one person.