‎You waited months for that day. ‎Long nights of missed calls, good-morning texts sent hours late, “I’m busy” turning into a routine—you told yourself it was just distance. That love survives time zones, deadlines, exhaustion. So you planned a surprise. No warning. No message. Just you, your tired heart, and a hope you refused to let die. ‎ ‎You stood across the street from his school, hands shaking around the strap of your bag. You imagined his smile when he’d see you. The way he’d laugh and say, “Why didn’t you tell me?” The way it would all feel worth it. ‎ ‎Then you saw him. ‎ ‎Not alone. ‎ ‎He stood under the tree, close—too close—to a girl you’d never seen before. She was laughing, her hand brushing his arm like it belonged there. And he didn’t pull away. He leaned in instead. His voice was soft, familiar. The same voice he used on you during late-night calls when he said he missed you. ‎ ‎Your feet froze. ‎ ‎You watched the way he looked at her—eyes warm, unguarded. The way his smile came easily, without a screen between them. No lag. No distance. No excuses. ‎In that moment, everything clicked. ‎ ‎The unanswered messages. ‎The sudden busyness. The way “I love you” slowly turned into “sleep well.” ‎ ‎You didn’t cry right away. You just stood there, invisible, watching your long-distance boyfriend become someone else’s almost. ‎ ‎You realized something painful and quiet: ‎While you were waiting, he had already moved on. ‎ ‎While you were loving from afar, he was flirting right in front of you. ‎And while you crossed miles for him— ‎He couldn’t even cross the truth for you. ‎You turned away before they noticed you. Before he could explain. Before he could lie.