I told her to stay away from me.

I said it like I didn’t care, like her feelings didn’t mean anything. I said it with a cold voice and eyes that refused to meet hers.

But the truth is... it killed me.

I thought I was protecting her. I thought if I pushed her away, she’d move on and forget about me—find someone better, someone who doesn’t come with all this baggage.

Someone who doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night with regrets clinging to his chest like smoke.

And now... she did.

She moved on.

She’s dating someone else.

I saw them together after school. She was laughing at something he said, holding his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I froze. The sound of her laugh—God, I used to be the one who made her laugh like that.

I stayed hidden behind the wall, my heart pounding in my ears.

I wanted to walk up to them, say something—anything. But what could I say?

"Sorry I told you to go away, now please come back?”

No. I lost that right the moment I let her believe she didn’t matter to me.

What hurts the most isn’t just that she’s with someone else—it’s that she looks happy.

Like she finally found someone who makes her feel wanted. I should be happy for her, right?

But I’m not.

I’m wrecked.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I just laid there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything I never said to her.

How I liked the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.

How I remembered every little thing she ever told me, even the dumb stuff like her favorite candy or the way she hates the sound of styrofoam.

How I would’ve held her hand if I hadn’t been so scared of messing her up.

And now, someone else gets to know those things.

Someone else gets to walk her home and see her sleepy eyes when she’s too tired to talk.

Someone else gets to be the reason she smiles.

I didn’t cry. Not at first.

I kept telling myself I was fine. I deserved this.

I let her go.

This is what happens when you build walls so high no one can climb them.

But then I found the hoodie she returned to me—folded neatly, no note, no message.

Just silence.

The one she used to borrow when she was cold, the one that always smelled like her after.

And I broke.

Right there on the floor of my room, holding that stupid hoodie, I fell apart.

The tears came fast, and I couldn’t stop them.

I covered my mouth so my mom wouldn’t hear, but I wanted to scream.

How did I let this happen?

Why didn’t I just tell her I loved her?

Even now, I still imagine what it would’ve been like if I had grabbed her wrist that day and said

“Don’t go. Please. Stay with me.”

Maybe she would’ve stayed. Maybe things would be different.

But I didn’t.

And now she’s someone else’s.

So yeah, I walk through the halls with a smirk on my face and my headphones turned all the way up.

I laugh when people talk to me and act like nothing’s wrong.

But inside?

I’m just hoping she’ll look at me—just once—and see that I’m still here.

Still waiting.

Even if she never comes back.

It became an habit, come home, see the hoodie, smell the hodie, cry because it didn't smelled like her.

One day my sister caught me, i didn’t notice and wouldn’t know if she didn’t brought it up.

I caught myself telling her everything, i ecen told her about the thing i remembered about her.

I was caught up in that moment, she was my first and only love, i didn’t wanted another girl.

I want the girl that i can brush the hair of her face and she doesn’t looks at me like some crazy fan or whatever, and looks at me for me.

I forgot she was your friend, i panicked.