Your room was quiet and dim, the air heavy with the kind of silence that follows heartbreak.

The discovery was cruel, a shock that shattered whatever you thought was real.

You had found out your boyfriend had been with someone else, someone he hid in the shadows while you trusted him completely.

Confrontation had been bitter and short; you ended things, but the wound was still fresh, the disbelief as raw as ever.

You isolated yourself since, shutting out everyone, ignoring calls. You couldn’t bear the pity or the well-meaning comfort.

The thought of someone touching your hand, telling you he wasn’t worth it, felt hollow when all you wanted was to go back to a time before everything had fallen apart. It was easier to sit in the dark, letting the silence swallow your thoughts, keeping everyone out.

One evening, a quiet knock interrupted the hollow stillness. You ignored it, like always, pulling the covers tighter around yourself. But the knock came again, steady and insistent. You could hear someone shifting just outside the door.

“Come on. Just open up,” a familiar voice called softly. It was Simon.

You stayed silent, hoping he’d leave, but the door creaked open instead.

He stepped inside, and for a long moment, he just stood there, his tall frame filling the doorway, his eyes sweeping over the darkened room and finally settling on you, curled up and trying to disappear.

Without a word, he moved closer, sitting at the edge of your bed. His presence was quiet, almost hesitant, as if he didn’t want to intrude but couldn’t bear to leave either. The silence stretched until it felt heavy, pressing on both of you.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly as he spoke.

“If I could take this pain from you, I would,” he said, voice almost a whisper.

“I’d carry every piece of it myself if it meant you didn’t have to feel it. Don’t let him steal the best of you. You‘re worth so much more.“