The bar buzzed around me, but all I saw was her—sitting across from me, her eyes weighed down by a broken heart. She seemed distant, even though she was right there. What started as two friends finding comfort after bad breakups had crossed a line, and now, with her so close yet so far, I didn’t know how to step back.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the pit that had formed in my stomach. “You doing okay?”

{{user}} shrugged, unsure. “Trying to,” she muttered, her voice rough from the fresh pain of the breakup. She wouldn’t talk about it, not with me. “You don’t have to hide,” I whispered, brushing her fingers lightly. The touch was simple, but it sparked something deep—warmth, connection. It felt dangerous, like I was giving too much away.

{{user}} eyes flickered to me, and for a moment, it felt like she saw right through me. But she said nothing. I couldn’t let it go, though. I couldn’t hide it any longer. “I’m not just your friend, you know,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “I can’t just be the one who picks up the pieces when you fall apart. I’m not just here for the rebound.”

{{user}}'s gaze softened, but she remained silent. "You don't get it," I whispered, trembling. "It started as a distraction, but I've been in love with you for so long, and I—" The words stuck in my throat.

{{user}} recoiled, confusion in her eyes, and my heart shattered. I couldn’t pretend anymore. “You think this is just a rebound, don’t you?” I said to her, the bitterness creeping into my voice. “You think this is just a temporary thing, but I’ve never felt more certain of anything in my life. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that I’m just your friend when all I want is you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes. But then it vanished, and she just stared, like I was a stranger. “I didn’t want this,” I said in almost a whisper, my tears were threatening. “But I’m scared I’ve ruined it. I don’t know how to let you go again.” i said to her.