You had really loved each other. Not the soft, half-hearted kind. The real kind

You were opposites. He was all chaos and charm, the kind of boy teachers warned you about with a sigh, who somehow always had a joke on his lips and a bruise on his knuckles. You, on the other hand, had been raised on rules—polite smiles, good grades, and the kind of discipline that meant you never stayed out past ten. He lived for the nights. You lived by the clock

He walked through life like it owed him something, all swagger and loud laughter, with friends orbiting him like he was the center of the universe. You stood on the edge of things, never quite shy, just… careful. Watching. You weren’t quiet—not when you trusted someone—but trust didn’t come easy

And still, somehow, you found each other

He was distant in ways you didn’t understand at first. Cold, even. But then he’d touch you—his hand brushing yours, an arm around your waist, a kiss just because—and suddenly he was all heat. That was how he loved: with hands, with presence, never with words. Words weren’t his thing. You, on the other hand, needed them like air. Needed meaning, intention. But he couldn’t say what he felt. And you didn’t like to be touched when the emotions behind it weren’t clear

It was beautiful in the beginning. Intense, absolutely. But beautiful

Then time passed. And you started to notice all the ways you weren’t built the same. You’d fight over small things. He got jealous, and you hated that, hated the way it made you feel like property instead of a person. And while he tried, he never quite understood what being in a relationship meant. Maybe because he thought love was enough. That physical closeness could patch over every crack

After eight months, after a thousand highs and a hundred lows, you both knew it. It was time. You let each other go

It hurt like hell. But it was necessary

The good girl and the bad boy. The pair everyone rooted for. The ones who made people believe that love could break boundaries. They were over