Everyone knew, but me

I should’ve noticed sooner. Not the big things — there weren’t any. It was the small ones. The quiet ones. The ones you ignore because you don’t want to ruin something that feels… good. The way conversations would stop when I walked in. The looks that lasted just a second too long. The feeling that something was slightly… off. But I told myself I was overthinking. I always do. It started at work. Night shifts. Long hours. The kind of tired where your guard drops without you realising. That’s when he started talking to me. At first, it was nothing. Just passing comments, small jokes, those “how’s your night going?” conversations that fill the silence. But then it became more. Longer talks. More personal. More… real. Or at least, that’s what I thought. There was something about him that felt easy. Like I didn’t have to try. Like he just got me without me having to explain anything. And when you’re not used to being seen like that… you hold onto it. I didn’t question why he only messaged at certain times. I didn’t question why we never really talked about his life outside of work. I didn’t question anything. Because I didn’t want to. Looking back now, that’s the part that hurts the most. Not what he did. But how badly I wanted it to be real. The first time we met outside of work, it felt different. Quieter. Closer. Like stepping into something I already knew I shouldn’t be in… but going anyway. I remember thinking, this is going to matter. And it did. Just not in the way I thought. I didn’t know people were already talking. I didn’t know there were looks behind my back, whispers I wasn’t meant to hear. I didn’t know she existed. Not yet.