The apartment felt smaller every day. You could feel the weight of it pressing in on you, the air thick with things left unsaid. The space between you and Chris had been growing for weeks now, inch by inch, until it was all you could feel anymore. The silence was louder than anythingâlouder than the soft hum of the refrigerator, louder than the distant sounds of traffic outside.Â
You sat across from him on the couch, the space between you nearly suffocating. Chris wasnât looking at you, not really. His eyes were focused on the blank TV screen in front of him, his thumb absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, but you could tell his mind wasnât on anything in the room. It hadnât been for a long time.
âChris,â you said softly, testing the waters, but your voice felt too quiet, too hesitant. You didnât know if you were afraid of the words that might come next or if you were afraid of the silence that would follow.
He didnât answer immediately, but you could feel him tense, the way his shoulders tightened at the sound of your voice. You werenât sure if that was a good sign or not, but it felt like the first crack, the first hint of something slipping. But you didnât know what it was anymore, or even what you wanted it to be.
You leaned forward slightly, the urge to close the gap between you too strong to ignore. âWe need to talk.â
His eyes flicked toward you, the briefest of glances, before he returned to whatever was on his screen. He let out a small sigh. âAbout what?â
You bit your lip, trying to suppress the frustration bubbling inside you. It wasnât the first time youâd tried to reach him, to bridge the distance that had been growing between you both. But each time, the gap only widened, no matter how hard you tried to reach out.
âYouâve been distant,â you said, your voice more fragile than you wanted it to be. âFor weeks now. I donât know whatâs going on with you, but it feels like youâre⌠slipping away.â The words hung in the air between you, and you could see him stiffen. He didnât like that. He never liked when you pushed, but you couldnât stop yourself.
He shrugged, his eyes still focused on his phone. âItâs nothing.â
âDonât do that.â The words were out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. âDonât pretend like itâs nothing, Chris. Donât shut me out.â
He didnât flinch at the tone of your voice, but you saw the slight tightening of his jaw, the muscles working under his skin as if he was trying to hold everything inside. Trying to keep the storm contained. Â
âItâs not that simple,â he muttered, finally putting the phone down beside him, but he still wouldnât look at you.Â
You felt the pit in your stomach deepen. He was pulling away again, and you didnât know how much longer you could let him do it before it broke you entirely.Â
âYouâre not making it simple, Chris. Iâve been here for months, trying to understand you. Trying to figure out whatâs going on, but you wonât let me in.â Your voice cracked as you said it. It was harder than you thought it would be. You had tried so hard to be patient, to be the person he could rely on when the weight of everything seemed too much for him to carry alone.Â
He was silent for a long time, and it was worse than any argument. It was the way he didnât respond. The way he didnât even seem to care anymore.
âIâm not⌠Iâm not good for you,â he said, the words barely audible, but they hit you like a slap in the face.Â
Your heart stuttered in your chest. You werenât sure if you were hearing him right. Youâd been waiting for something like this, expecting it, but you still couldnât quite believe it.
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â You wanted to laugh, to let out the frustration in a burst of something, anything, but all you could do was sit there, blinking back tears that threatened to spill over. âOf course, youâre good for me. What, you think Iâve been wasting my time with someone whoâs not good for me? Do you even hear yourself right now?â
He finally looked at you, but there was nothing there. No warmth. No emotion. Just a kind of emptiness that made you shiver. His eyes, once full of that light youâd come to rely on, were flat, distant, as though he had already shut you out.
âI donât know how to be the person you want me to be,â he said, almost as if he were confessing something. âIâm trying, but I just⌠I canât do it. Not for you. Not for anyone.â
Your breath caught in your throat. âI never asked you to be anyone but yourself.â
He stood up, and for a moment, the silence grew thick again. His hands were trembling slightly, and for a brief, terrifying second, you thought he might walk away. Maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe that was what he neededâjust to leave everything behind. But instead, he turned his back to you. The distance between you wasnât just physical anymore. It felt like an entire lifetime of unresolved fears and regrets had been built between the two of you, brick by brick.Â
âYou donât deserve this,â he said, his voice cracking at the edges. He didnât turn around, but you could feel the weight of his words. âIâm not good for you. Iâm notâŚâ He paused, his shoulders sagging, and you could see how broken he really was. But it wasnât enough to stop him. Not yet.Â
âChris,â you whispered, standing up, your hands trembling as you reached for him, but he stepped back, like the very touch of you was something he couldnât bear. âPlease, donât do this. Youâre not broken. You donât have toââ
âYou donât get it,â he cut you off, his voice raw now, as if the words had been clawing at his throat. âI keep pushing you away because I canât let you love me. I donât know how to be loved. I donât know how to let you in without⌠without destroying everything.â
You took a shaky step toward him, your hands desperate now, but he moved back again, shaking his head like he was fighting against something inside himself.
âIâm sorry,â he whispered, his voice so small, it almost broke you. âIâm so sorry, but I canât be what you need.â
And just like that, the final piece of the wall between you both fell. You were left standing in the middle of the room, watching him back away, and all you could do was watch him walk toward the door, your heart splintering into pieces. He didnât look back. And just like that, you realised that nothing you said could ever make him stay.
The door closed with a soft click, and the silence that followed was more deafening than anything that had come before. You stood in the middle of the room, staring at the space where he had just been, where he had just walked away from you. From us. Â
You couldnât breathe. Every breath felt like a laborious act, every inhale burning your lungs with the sharp sting of something that had broken but not yet fallen apart. You knew, deep down, that you were no longer in control of this. Whatever was happening between you and Chris wasnât something you could fix anymore. You had tried. You had tried so damn hard. But you couldnât keep pretending like everything was fine when it clearly wasnât. Â
The walls of the apartment felt like they were closing in on you, the weight of the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do something to release the pressure building inside your chest, but all you could do was stand there. Â
Your phone buzzed on the counter, the sharp sound slicing through the quiet. You glanced over at it. It was a message from him. Chris. You hesitated before you picked it up, your fingers trembling as you unlocked the screen. The message was short. Â
Iâm sorry. Please donât hate me.
You stared at the words for a long time, the suffocating sense of finality gnawing at you. The pain of those words wasnât that they came from himâit was the hopelessness behind them. The way they seemed to say that he believed he was beyond saving, that you would never be able to forgive him. That you would never want to. Â
You ran your fingers over the screen, your heart pounding in your chest. You wanted to respond, to make him understand that this wasnât something you could just walk away from, that you needed him, but you couldnât find the words. There was no answer that would undo the damage, no response that would make him walk back through that door. Â
You dropped the phone onto the counter with a shaking hand, the feeling of it slipping from your grasp symbolising everything else that had slipped away in the past few months. You didnât know how long you stood there, motionless, the world outside continuing as if nothing had changed. But inside, everything had. Â
The apartment was cold. The space where he used to beâwhere his laughter used to fill the room, where you had spent countless nights curled up togetherâwas now an empty reminder of the distance that had crept between you. You felt it more now than ever before: the space that had once been filled with connection, with love, was now hollow. Â
Your mind kept replaying his words, his refusal to let you in. Iâm not good for you.
You knew, deep down, that he didnât believe that. Not really. But it didnât matter. Heâd convinced himself of it, and that was enough. Â
You walked to the window, staring out into the night, trying to steady your breathing, trying to convince yourself that it would all be okay, that time would heal everything. But the truth settled heavy on your chest, and you realised it wasnât the time that would fix this. Â
But what if he couldnât be fixed? What if, in the end, he was right? What if he wasnât meant to be loved? What if you werenât enough to save him, no matter how much you cared? The thought tore at you, but you pushed it away. You refused to let that be the answer. Â
You grabbed your jacket from the chair, the cold fabric slipping through your fingers as you pulled it on. You didnât know what you were doing, or where you were going. You just knew you couldnât sit in the silence anymore. Not now. Not when every second without him felt like an eternity of self-doubt and regret. You needed to see him. You needed to talk to him. To make him understand that you didnât want to fix him. You just wanted to love him. Â
The streets were quiet, the city lights casting long shadows as you walked aimlessly, your feet taking you wherever they could find solace. Every corner you turned felt like it led you farther from something you could never get back. But the moment you saw his car parked on the side of the road, your heart jumped in your chest. You knew he was inside. You knew he hadnât gone far. Â
You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. You didnât want to be the one to chase him. You didnât want to feel like you were begging him to let you in when he had already made it clear he didnât want you there. Â
But what else could you do? You couldnât just let him walk away. Â
Your hand trembled as you knocked on the window of the car. It took him a moment to look up, his eyes still hollow with exhaustion, but when he saw you standing there, his face softened for a fraction of a second before it hardened again, the walls coming up between you both once more. Â
âWhat are you doing here?â he asked, his voice low and guarded. Â
âI couldnât just let you go,â you said, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. âChris, I canât keep doing this. I canât keep pretending that everything is okay when itâs not. I canât pretend that Iâm okay with losing you.â Â
He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as if you were asking for something impossible. âYou should be. You should be okay with it. Iâm not what you need. Iâll just end up hurting you, like I always do.â Â
âYouâre not the only one hurting here, Chris,â you said softly, your voice breaking under the weight of everything you couldnât say. âIâm hurting too. But I canât just walk away. Not when I love you.â Â
The words felt like they left your chest in a rush, as though they had been trapped inside for far too long. But even as they left your lips, you felt the heavy weight of doubt sink into your bones. Would he believe you? Could he even hear you through all the walls he had built around himself? He closed his eyes, his head resting against the headrest of the seat as he let out a long sigh, the weight of everything between you pulling him down. Â
âI canât do this,â he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes finally meeting yours with a look so broken it made you ache. âI canât be the person you need. Not when I can barely hold myself together. I donât know how to be what you want me to be.â Â
The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you took a step back, feeling the sting of everything crashing down on you. Â
âI donât need you to be anything,â you whispered. âI just need you to stay.â Â
But the door stayed closed. And you were left standing in the street, feeling the cold seeping into your bones, as he pulled further away from youâjust like he had so many times before. Â
The city felt colder now, the air biting at your skin as you stood frozen in place, the weight of his words lingering, suffocating. You stared at his car, the one place that felt like home just hours ago, now the one thing keeping you apart from everything you still wanted to believe in. Â
You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the beat erratic and harsh, as though it was trying to remind you that you were still alive, still breathing, even when everything around you felt like it was crumbling into nothing. Â
You took a step back from the car, the feeling of the pavement under your shoes grounding you for a moment. But even as you stood there, trying to pull yourself together, it felt like your insides were unraveling with every passing second. Â
The truth was, you werenât sure if you could keep fighting for something that was slipping further away. But you couldnât help yourself. You couldnât walk away without knowing that youâd given it everything you had. Â
You didnât look back when you turned and started walking down the street. Your feet felt heavy with the weight of the unspoken words between you and Chris, but you couldnât stay there. You couldnât keep standing in front of him, hoping he would let you in when he had already made it clear he didnât want you there. Still, a part of you hopedâhoped that something inside him would snap, that he would see you standing there and remember the love you had shared, the one that still lingered in the corners of your heart. Â
But the further you walked, the more the doubts crept in. The cold air seemed to match the freezing distance between you both. It was as though the universe had conspired to keep you apart, to remind you that no matter how hard you tried, some things were just too broken to fix. Â
Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You hesitated for a moment before pulling it out, your hands shaking as you unlocked the screen. Â
Chris: I canât do this to you. I donât deserve you. Please donât hate me.
Your breath caught in your throat. The message was more of the sameâmore of his self-doubt, more of the words that were destroying you both. You wanted to scream. To shout at him that you didnât hate him, that you could never hate him. That you loved him in a way that went deeper than anything he could understand. But what good would it do? Â
The silence between you two was deafening. It was like the longer you stood there, the more the world around you seemed to blur into a backdrop of white noise. You thought about going back. You thought about knocking on his door, asking him to listen to you one more time, to finally hear what you had to say. But you knew it wouldnât change anything. Â
He had already decided. And maybe you had, too. Â
The thought struck you like a cold slap to the faceâmaybe you werenât enough. Maybe he was right. Maybe you had tried, too hard, for too long, and now it was too late. Maybe there wasnât anything you could do to make him see that you loved him, flaws and all. Maybe he would never believe it. Â
The tears you had been holding back spilled over, each drop like a shard of glass in your chest. You wiped them away quickly, as though the act of doing so could stop the flood, but it didnât. It only made it worse. Â
You stumbled into a nearby cafĂŠ, trying to find some semblance of warmth, of something that could pull you back from the edge. You ordered a coffee, your hands shaking as you paid for it, trying to compose yourself in the moment. But nothing felt right.
There was a quiet hum of chatter around you, the kind of noise that you used to find comforting. Now, it was just another reminder that the world kept moving, while you were stuck in this horrible, aching place. Your phone buzzed again. This time, you didnât have to look to know who it was. You could feel his presence through the screen, the words that he was too afraid to say in person. Â
Chris: Iâm sorry. I donât want to hurt you. But I will. Itâs just who I am.
You read the message over and over, the words cutting deeper each time. The guilt he carriedâthe guilt that had been pushing him away for so longâwas taking over him entirely. And you were powerless to stop it. Â
The barista at the counter called out your name, breaking you from your thoughts, but you didnât respond immediately. You stared at the message, feeling as though you were suffocating. How many times could you hear the same thing before you believed it? Before you started to think maybe he was right, that you were just waiting for something that would never come? You stood up slowly, walking to the counter and taking the coffee from the barista without saying a word. You didnât know what you were doing anymore. You didnât know what you were supposed to feel. Â
But you did know that nothing would ever be the same. Â
You stepped outside and found yourself standing on the same cold street, your breath clouding in front of you. The city seemed louder now, its noise filling the empty spaces where Chrisâs voice used to be. The thought that he was still out there, somewhere, probably still sitting in his car or back at his apartmentâstill trying to convince himself that he didnât deserve youâwas more than you could bear. Â
You texted him one more time, your fingers trembling as you typed the words. Â
Please. Iâm not asking you to change. Iâm asking you to stay. Â
You stared at the screen for a long time, waiting for the familiar response that you thought would come immediately. But it didnât. Minutes passed. And still, there was no reply. The reality hit you like a punch to the gut. Maybe this was it. Â
Maybe the love you had for him wasnât enough to fix him. Maybe the person he thought he was would always be a wall between you both. Maybe you were never meant to be the one who saved him. Â
You couldnât wait forever. You couldnât keep doing this to yourself, keep pouring everything you had into someone who couldnât see it. But as you stood on that street, staring at your phone with your chest tight, you realised one painful truth: You werenât ready to let go. You couldnât let go. And that was the hardest thing of all. Â
Days since you last saw him, since you last heard his voice, since you last stood face to face with Chris and felt like everything between you was still real, still salvageable. Days of endless silence, punctuated only by the cold, unfeeling texts that seemed to make everything worse. Â
You sat on the couch again, the very spot where you had once sat with him, where his laughter and warmth had filled the room. Now, it felt empty. Hollow. And it was that emptiness that gnawed at you mostâthe constant reminder that no matter how much you wanted to bridge the distance, no matter how much you longed for things to go back to what they were, you were just as far apart as you had been before. But you refused to give up. Not yet. Â
The message he had sent a few nights ago still burned in your mind: Iâm sorry. I donât want to hurt you. But I will. Itâs just who I am. Â
It wasnât just the words that haunted youâit was the tone. The way he had resigned himself to this fate, as though there was no escaping it. He truly believed that he was a burden, that the damage he carried would tear you apart, even if you didnât see it. He had convinced himself that his love for you wasnât enough, that nothing could ever be enough to bridge the gap in his heart. And yet, here you were, still sitting here, still waiting. Still trying. Â
A knock on the door broke your train of thought. You froze, heart skipping a beat as you glanced toward it, wondering if you had imagined it. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. Another knock, this time louder. You stood, hesitating for only a moment before you crossed the room, your heart racing in your chest. You swung the door open. Â
Chris stood in the doorway, his eyes swollen from lack of sleep, his hair messy like he hadnât bothered to run a hand through it in days. But it was the look on his face that stopped you in your tracksâraw, vulnerable, and more broken than youâd ever seen him. Â
He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice faltered, like he wasnât sure if he was even worthy of being here. The words didnât come immediately, and for a moment, you both just stood there in silence, caught in the gravity of the moment. Â
âI donât know what to say,â Chris said quietly, finally managing to find his voice, though it was thick with emotion. âIâm so fucking sorry.â Â
Your heart clenched at the sound of his voice, and without thinking, you reached for him. You didnât care that you had no idea how this would turn out. You didnât care that he had pushed you away over and over again. You just knew that you needed him, and that was enough. Â
You pulled him into an embrace, feeling the weight of everything between you both crash down in that one instant. His arms hesitated around you at first, like he wasnât sure if he could touch you, but slowly, he tightened his grip, as if afraid youâd slip away if he didnât hold on tight enough. Â
âIâm so sorry,â he repeated, his voice muffled against your hair. âI hurt you. I pushed you away. I thought it was the right thing to do, but it wasnât. I was just afraid⌠afraid of ruining everything.â Â
You held him tighter, the fear that had been simmering inside you now bubbling to the surface. âChris, donât you see? You already ruined everything the moment you shut me out. You pushed me away, and now Iâm standing here, holding on to nothing but a memory of what we used to be. But it doesnât have to be like this. You donât have to do this alone.â Â
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, like he couldnât quite believe you were standing there, that you were still here. Â
âYou donât understand,â he whispered, voice breaking. âIâve been running from everything I feel. From you. From this. I was so scared that I would ruin us, that I would hurt you so much that youâd hate me. Iâve convinced myself that I donât deserve you. That I couldnât be the person you wanted me to be, that no matter what I did, I would destroy this.â Â
The words hit you like a punch to the chest. He had spent all this time, these last weeks, fighting himself, fighting the love you shared because he believed he wasnât worthy. And yet, here he was, standing in front of you, vulnerable and shaking, like he was letting you see him for the first time. Â
âYou donât have to be anyone other than yourself,â you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you wanted to say. âI donât need you to be perfect, Chris. I just need you to be hereâwith me. I love you. I need you.â Â
His face crumpled at your words, and before you could fully understand what was happening, his lips were on yours. It was soft at firstâtentative, like he was afraid to make the wrong moveâbut it quickly deepened, a desperate need in every touch. Every kiss seemed to say the words that neither of you had been able to say before. Â
He pulled back just enough to look at you again, his forehead resting against yours. âI donât know how to be what you need,â he admitted quietly, his voice thick with emotion. âBut Iâm willing to try.â Â
You closed your eyes, your hand resting over his heart. âThatâs all I ever needed. You donât have to have all the answers. We just have to be willing to fight for this⌠together.â Â
For a long moment, neither of you moved. It was as if the weight of everything had finally settled, and you could both breathe again. The past few weeks of fear, pain, and self-sabotage seemed to fall away in that simple moment of honesty, of vulnerability. He kissed you again, this time with more certainty, more passionâa promise, a plea, a final letting go of everything that had been holding him back. Â
âIâm so sorry,â he whispered between kisses, his hands tangled in your hair as if trying to pull you closer. âIâll never push you away again. I swear.â Â
And in that moment, you knew. It wasnât perfect. It wasnât easy. But it was real. Â
You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally slipping down your cheeks, but they werenât from the pain anymore. They were from the relief, the overwhelming sense that maybe, just maybe, you werenât so far apart after all. Â
âIâm not going anywhere,â you whispered softly, your voice full of conviction. âWeâll figure it out, together.â Â
Chris looked at you then, and for the first time in so long, there was something in his eyes that had been missing: hope. And in that moment, you both broke through the walls you had built. Slowly, but surely, you started to find each other again. Â
The days after that night blurred into something softer, something almost easier to bear. But even as you held onto him, clung to him like he was your anchor, you both knew that healing wasnât instant. It wasnât a fix you could just bandage over with a kiss, no matter how many times you whispered to each other that everything would be okay. Â
The truth was, there were still pieces of you that werenât whole. There were still cracks where trust had shattered, and silence had turned into walls that both of you had to climb over, brick by brick. It was a slow processâagonising, evenâbut it was progress. Â
You spent more time together in the days following, the kind of quiet time that allowed you both to breathe and settle back into a rhythm. But there was always that underlying tension, that fear of the unknown. You couldnât erase the past, couldnât erase the mistakes, no matter how badly you wanted to. But it was easier with him near. Easier to pretend that things could go back to normal, even if the truth was you both had changed. Â
It was a lazy afternoon when the conversation finally came. You were sitting on the couch, Chrisâs head resting in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair. The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft patterns across the floor. The stillness was comforting. But the words that hung in the air between you both werenât so easy. Â
âI never meant to hurt you,â Chris said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes closed as if afraid to face the weight of what he was about to say. Â
You stopped running your fingers through his hair and looked down at him, watching the vulnerable expression on his face. You had asked for honesty, begged for it, but hearing it from him still carried the weight of all that had happened. Â
âI know,â you whispered, tracing the outline of his jaw with your fingers. âBut you did. And thatâs⌠thatâs the part Iâm still trying to understand. Thatâs the part Iâm still trying to accept.â Â
He nodded slowly, his brow furrowing with regret. âI wanted to protect you. I thought that if I kept pushing you away, I wouldnât hurt you. But it never worked. I kept breaking everything without even realising it. And now, Iâm scared that Iâve gone too far.â Â
You looked away for a moment, your chest tight with the truth of it. You could feel the hurt, the sting of the past few weeks, still lodged in your chest. But at the same time, you knew you werenât the same person you were when it started. Neither of you were. Â
âI think⌠I think weâve both hurt each other,â you said quietly. âAnd I canât pretend that it didnât matter. It did. But weâre here now. And I think... I think we can heal. Together.â Â
Chris opened his eyes then, and there was something so raw in themâsomething vulnerable that made your heart ache. âDo you really believe that?â he asked, his voice thick with uncertainty. Â
You nodded slowly, your fingers brushing against his skin once more, grounding him in the moment. âI do. But it wonât be easy. And I wonât pretend like Iâm okay with everything you did. Iâm still angry. Iâm still hurt. But I canât just walk away from you. I donât want to. I want to make this work, Chris. But we both need to do the work. We both need to be better.â Â
He sat up then, his body tense, but his gaze never leaving you. âI know I have to change,â he said, his voice shaking a little. âI donât want to keep pushing you away. I donât want to make you feel like youâre not enough. You are enough. I just⌠I just donât know how to stop being afraid of losing you. I donât know how to stop thinking that Iâll ruin this too.â Â
You reached for him, pulling him into your arms again, knowing that words wouldnât be enough to bridge the gap in the space between you. But touchâtouchâwas a way to communicate everything that words couldnât. Â
âIâm not going anywhere,â you said softly, your hand tracing his back, offering comfort, offering love. âIâll be here. But you have to be here with me, too. You have to let me in. For real, Chris.â Â
He nodded, burying his face against your shoulder, breathing in the scent of you like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the moment. You could feel his tears soaking through your shirt, the quiet tremors of the fear that had been eating at him. You didnât say anything more. You didnât need to. The air between you both had shifted, and there was an understanding that had taken rootâone that had to grow, slow and steady. Â
For the next few weeks, the world around you seemed to blur even more. Time passed, but it didnât matter. You both moved through it in a kind of limbo, learning how to navigate each otherâs pain, learning how to talk without the fear of being misunderstood. Â
Chris started sharing more with youâhis fears, his insecurities, the things he had kept hidden for so long. It wasnât always easy to hear, but it was real. He showed up, every day, fighting against the urge to run. And when he faltered, when he let the fear creep back in, you were there to remind him that he wasnât alone anymore. Â
There were setbacks. Nights when you both lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if you were doing the right thing, wondering if this was really enough. But there were also moments that made it all feel worth it. Quiet mornings when you shared a cup of coffee and let the world outside fade into the background. Laughter over a silly inside joke that only the two of you understood. The small victories, the moments of tenderness, the moments when he looked at you and smiled like he had never made a mistake. Â
One evening, after a particularly quiet night of talking, Chris held your hand tightly, his thumb tracing the lines of your palm as he spoke. âI donât deserve you,â he murmured, the words still heavy on his tongue, but this time there was a different kind of conviction behind them. âBut Iâm going to spend every day trying to show you that I can be someone worthy of your love.â Â
You smiled, squeezing his hand. âIâm not going anywhere,â you repeated, just like you had that night at the door. âBut you donât have to try alone. Weâre in this together.â Â
And for the first time in so long, Chris didnât pull away. He let himself be held. He let himself be loved. And slowlyâso slowly, you almost didnât noticeâthe walls began to crumble. The fear, the self-doubt, the distance that had once defined your relationship started to fade, replaced by something quieter, something stronger. Trust. Patience. Hope. Â
You didnât know what the future would bring. You didnât know if this was the end of the story, or if it was just the beginning of something new. But you knew this: whatever happened, you were no longer afraid of loving him. And maybe, just maybe, he wasnât afraid of loving you either. Â
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Another angst. I do throughly enjoy writing angst but i think i might write a fluff next đ
