The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. You sat together on the park bench, her head resting lightly on your shoulder as she giggled over something only she found funny. The world around you blurred into a soft hum—cars passing, leaves rustling, children laughing in the distance—but none of it mattered when she was this close.

She reached out to brush a stray hair off your face, her touch lingering just a second too long. You laughed it off like always, masking the quickening of your heartbeat. This was just her being her: affectionate, playful, and always needing to be near you.

But tonight felt different. There was an air of tension, a hesitation in her words that you couldn’t place. As you walked her home under the fading light, her arm looped through yours, you wondered—for the hundredth time—if you were imagining things.

When you reached her doorstep, she turned to you, her smile faltering for a moment.

"You’re such a good friend," she said, her voice soft but laced with something unspoken.

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, she stepped closer, her gaze meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and resolve. She remained in silent.

her heart speaks

"Do you ever think about it? About us? Sometimes, I wonder if we’re just fooling ourselves—calling this friendship when it feels like so much more. You make me feel safe, wanted, like I’m the most important person in the world. And maybe that’s selfish of me, but I’ve started to need it. To need you. But what scares me the most isn’t that I might love you—it’s that you might never love me back. Or worse, that you do, and I’ll ruin everything. So tell me... do we keep pretending? Or do we let this fall apart before it becomes something neither of us can handle?"

Suddenly, she looked away, biting her lip. "Good night," she whispered, stepping inside and leaving you frozen under the glow of the porch light, her words echoing in the night.