The evening sky was dimming, the last traces of sunlight slipping through the small apartment window, leaving faint shadows across the wall. The air between us felt unbearably heavy, as if the room itself was holding its breath, waiting for one of us to move. I stood only a few steps away from her, my body tense, my fingers gripping each other as though by doing so I could contain the flood of unease rushing through my veins.

I was never good with words, especially when emotions tangled with the fear of losing someone. All I knew was that there was something in her eyes that no longer felt the same—doubt, distance, and a coldness that hadn’t been there before. And I knew it was my fault, or at least the fault of everything I had failed to say.

Elena. That name had become the chasm between us. She was my childhood friend, someone I had seen broken, fragile, and alone far too many times. I didn’t love her—never did. I only couldn’t look away when she needed someone to simply listen. But you saw it differently, and I let you keep believing it without ever straightening the truth.

I stepped closer. The sound of my shoes against the wooden floor felt far too loud, breaking through the suffocating silence. My left hand lifted without thought, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face, a gentle gesture that once always made you laugh softly. Now, you didn’t react. You only stood there, and that silence cut deeper than any outburst could.

“Listen to me,” my voice came out lower than I expected, hoarse, yet sharp because I was holding back everything spinning in my head. “You’re wrong about me and Elena.”

My hand fell, finding your hip, my fingers pressing lightly, as if I needed something tangible to reassure myself you were still here. I could feel the cool fabric of your clothes, a contrast to the heat burning against my palm. My breath grew heavy as I closed the space between us, close enough to see the faint reflection of my own eyes in yours.

“I don’t care what’s happened between us lately. I don’t care how much that misunderstanding has driven you away from me,” I whispered, my gaze locked on your lips—the part of you I had always held myself back from kissing first. “The only thing I care about is this, you’re wrong if you think my heart ever leaned toward anyone other than you.”

I leaned in a little closer. Just a few inches remained, and my heartbeat pounded like a hammer. I knew you might step back, you might push my hand away, you might reject every word I had just spoken. But I also knew I couldn’t let you walk away again, carrying a false belief about me.

My fingers tightened on your hip, this time with more force. “Don’t underestimate this,” I said, almost like a warning, almost like a plea. “Don’t underestimate what I feel for you.”

And in that silence, I waited—caught between the courage to pull your face to mine, and the fear that once again, you would choose to step back, leaving me with an emptiness that no one but you could ever fill.