Trying Isn’t Always Enough
579 Words
Some people love with fire.
Silas loved with quiet persistence.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t ask, “Why don’t you love me back?”
He just… stayed.
And maybe that’s what made it hurt the most.
---
It started with the little things.
Every morning, there’d be a cup of coffee waiting for me at the kitchen counter — not too sweet, not too strong. Just the way I liked it.
He never asked if I wanted it. He just knew.
He stocked the fridge with the brand of yogurt I used to eat when we were in college — even though I hadn’t touched it in weeks.
He left notes on the fridge:
> “Don’t forget to eat. Please.”
“Umbrella’s by the door. It might rain.”
“I know I can’t fix what was broken… but I can hold the pieces if you let me.”
---
I never replied.
But I read every word.
And at night, when I closed my door and lay on my bed, I would think about him in the next room — alone, silent, and still trying.
And that’s when it would hit me.
Guilt.
Heavy, sharp, and silent — like a knife made of whispers.
Because Silas never asked for my love.
He only asked for a chance.
And I gave him none.
---
One evening, I walked into the living room to find it dark — except for the faint glow of fairy lights strung across the walls.
On the floor sat a memory I thought I had buried long ago:
My favorite books laid out.
A playlist softly playing — the same one I used to fall asleep to back then.
And a small chocolate cake — the kind I used to buy myself on bad days — sat on the table.
> “I know it’s not your birthday,” Silas said quietly from the kitchen doorway. “But I just… thought maybe today was a hard day. And you deserved something sweet.”
I froze.
And I hated myself.
Because he noticed the way my hands had been trembling that morning.
He noticed the sadness I didn’t speak.
He noticed me, even when I was trying my hardest to disappear.
---
That night, I didn’t sleep.
I stared at the ceiling, replaying every word, every gesture, every time I had shut him out.
He didn’t force his way into my heart.
He waited outside… every single day.
And the worst part?
He deserved so much better.
He deserved someone who would love him back.
Someone who would smile at his efforts.
Someone who wouldn’t flinch every time he got too close.
But instead… he got me.
A broken version of a girl still haunted by a love she wasn’t allowed to keep.
---
The next morning, I found another note on the table:
> “You don’t have to love me. I just want you to smile again.”
And that broke me.
Because even after everything…
Even after all the silence…
He wasn’t asking for love.
Just a smile.
---
I pressed the note to my chest and whispered through tears,
> “Why are you making this so hard, Silas…”
Hard to hate him.
Hard to push him away.
Hard to stay angry.
And even harder to ignore the truth I didn’t want to face:
That maybe, just maybe…
A part of me had already started to care.
- Writer
