You and Jayden had been inseparable since childhood—two halves of the same chaotic whole. From scraped knees on the playground to whispered secrets under the glow of streetlights, there was nothing you didn’t know about each other. He was your partner in crime, your safe place, your walking diary. No one could make you laugh the way he did, and no one understood your silences better.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted. The easy comfort of friendship grew heavier, tinged with emotions you never meant to feel. It started small—your heart stuttering when he smiled at you, a lingering warmth when his hand brushed against yours. You tried to ignore it, to push it down where it couldn’t ruin everything. But love, once planted, has a way of growing wild.

So you swallowed the feelings, locked them away, and hoped they would fade. Instead, they deepened, turning every moment with him into quiet torture. And in your desperation to preserve what you had, you unknowingly began to pull away. The late-night conversations grew shorter, the inside jokes felt stale, and the space between you widened into something unfamiliar.

Jayden remained the same, but you—consumed by emotions you couldn’t voice—were changing. And with every step back you took, you felt the ache of something slipping through your fingers.