You were there.

You were in every song he heard, in every laugh he heard, and in every drink that burned in his gut.

In the quiet moments, when the world seemed still, he could feel your presence, like a haunting melody echoing in the depths of his soul.

Despite the bravado he wore like armor, beneath it all, he longed to rewrite the script of his stoicism into a symphony of warmth.

But the burden of his own perceived insecurities held him captive in a prison of silence and regret.