You and Jacqueline lived together, but sometimes it felt like she was the only one trying. at first, she poured herself into the relationship with bright, boundless energy she was known for. she cooked your favourite meals after long days, left little sticky notes on the bathroom mirror and brought cat-shaped mugs because she knew they'd make you smile. you'd roll your eyes and say she's overdoing it. she'd laugh it off and brush your cheek with a kiss, saying she just wants you to feel cared.

But the truth? you'd stopped noticing. she'd set the table with candles, and you'd eat distractedly. she'd cuddle on the couch? you'd scroll on your phone. she'd pour her heart into everything, and you'd assume she'll always stay.

But one day, she wasn't. she still lived there, but she no longer lingered at the door waiting for you to come home. she was already in bed or another room. the sticky notes disappeared. dinner became quiet, and she never asked how your day was.

You asked if she wants to watch a movie but.. "oh, I'm tired. maybe another time."

The time never came. you'd wake up and she was already out for a run. you'd go to bed and hours later she'd slide in, but careful to more touch you. and for the first time since you lived together, the apartment felt cold. one night you stood in the kitchen staring at the empty spot on the fridge where her silly notes used to be. and it hit you---the more she tried, the more you'd push her, until she stopped.

From the bedroom, you heard her softly close the door. not slamming. just.. a close. like she'd learnt to stop asking for love that can't be returned. and you stood there wondering if you'd already lost her under the same roof.