Almost You

The Boy Who Didn’t Know Me Yet

> "Sometimes the cruelest thing about second chances is that you remember everything… and they remember nothing."

---

The footsteps on the stairs echoed louder than they should have. I stood frozen in my childhood living room, the walls closing in like a secret I hadn’t meant to carry. The moment was surreal, painted in the soft golden hue of nostalgia and fate. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. I had been through this day before—but not like this. Never like this.

He walked in.

Silas.

Not my husband. Not the man who made me coffee every morning and left love in the little things. This was Silas before it all.

He was dressed in a navy hoodie, hair a little messy from the wind, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding a notebook. He looked younger, lighter—almost carefree.

His eyes scanned the room, then landed on me. And he smiled. That smile I had come to know as home. The smile that had grown quieter over the months we were married. But now, it was untouched, open.

"Hey, Luna," he said with casual warmth. "You look... tired. You okay?"

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know what we’d been through. What he meant to me. What I had done.

I forced a smile. "I just woke up. Weird dreams."

He laughed lightly. "Same. I dreamed my math teacher turned into a talking goat."

I let out a soft breath. Even in another lifetime, Silas was still Silas.

He dropped onto the couch beside me, his notebook flipping open. "We have a presentation today. You didn’t forget, right?"

I blinked. Presentation?

Oh God. This day. I had forgotten the tiny things.

"Nope," I lied. "I remember."

He arched a brow. "You never remember. I literally reminded you last night."

Of course he did. He always looked out for me, even before love became a part of it.

---

We walked together to school.

The streets looked the same, but everything felt different. The cherry trees near the main road were just beginning to bloom. Petals swirled around us like a silent, enchanted snowfall. It felt like walking through time.

He talked. About school. About a movie he watched. About how he’d started learning guitar and already regretted it. I watched him like a stranger watches something precious from behind a glass wall. Every gesture, every half-laugh, every side glance—etched in my memory, freshly reborn in this moment.

And all I could think was, You loved me once.

You married me.

You stayed when I didn’t deserve you.

---

During lunch, I sat across from him and the rest of our small circle. Everyone chatted like nothing had changed. Because for them, it hadn’t. But for me, every second was sacred.

"You okay, Luna?" Silas asked again, his voice softer this time.

I nodded. "Just thinking."

He leaned closer. "You're never this quiet unless something's really wrong."

He knew me. Even here. Even now.

But not fully.

Not yet.

I looked at him—really looked at him—and whispered, "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded.

"If you knew someone was hurting, but they didn't know how to show it... what would you do?"

His expression shifted. Gently serious. "I'd wait. I'd be there. Sometimes... people just need time."

He shrugged, smiling a little. "And a lot of coffee."

God, Silas.

Even now, you knew the exact words.

---

That evening, I stood in front of my mirror again.

Not as the broken wife. Not as the girl who ran away. But as someone stuck between two timelines—one she already lived, and one she was rewriting with every breath.

My phone buzzed.

Asher.

I hadn't spoken to him yet. Not really. I was afraid. Not of him—but of the war between past and present. Between the love I thought was everything, and the love I never saw coming.

Back then, Asher was my world. He was the boy who made me believe in promises. In forever.

But now?

Now, I remembered how forever had slipped away.

I answered the call.

"Luna?" His voice was immediate, full of concern. "Where have you been? I’ve been calling for two days."

I swallowed. "I just... needed to breathe."

"I get it," he said. "But don’t shut me out, okay? I love you."

My eyes burned.

Three little words that used to lift me into the stars now felt like anchors.

"I love you too," I whispered.

But it didn’t feel whole.

It didn’t feel right.

I ended the call and sat on the floor, back against the bed, knees to my chest.

I had once begged for this moment. To go back. To be with Asher again. To never be forced into that marriage.

And now, I had it.

But my heart wasn’t racing.

It was aching.

For Silas.

For every quiet thing he did. For every unspoken word. For every night he stood on the other side of our bedroom door, not coming in because I needed space.

---

The next day, Silas walked beside me again.

He handed me a small paper bag. Inside was a sandwich, a cookie, and a folded napkin with a doodle of a smiling moon. My nickname. "Luna."

"You forgot your lunch," he said.

"You made this?"

He shrugged. "Sort of. It's probably awful. But I couldn't let you starve."

Kindness like his should be impossible.

And yet, here he was.

I wanted to hug him. I wanted to say thank you for everything you’ll do for me. I wanted to cry into his hoodie and say I'm sorry for how cold I was.

But I couldn’t.

Because to him, I was just a girl. A friend. A classmate.

He hadn’t fallen yet.

And maybe I hadn't either.

But the timeline was already changing.

And so was I.

---

> Some loves arrive with fireworks. Others are quiet, steady, and always there—until you realize they’re the kind that last forever.