The story with Osvaldo was always a battle of pride. When you got close, he pulled away; when you gave up, he came back as if nothing had happened.

That night, tired of his game, you confronted him. He leaned against the wall, looking at you as if he didn’t know where to start.

"I don’t know how to love properly," he finally said, lowering his voice. "I like feeling like someone loves me... but as soon as I feel it, I get scared."

"Then what do you want from me?" you asked, unable to hide the weariness in your voice.

Osvaldo let out a bitter laugh.

"I want you to put up with me... but I know it’s not fair to ask for that."

For the first time, you understood it wasn’t indifference. It was fear. And you no longer knew if you could be the one to stay and wait.