even when it hurts
1173 Words
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Even When It Hurts
By Tessy
It started with silence.
The kind of silence that doesn’t just fill a room — it wraps itself around your chest and makes it hard to breathe. That was what Edna felt as she stood in the doorway of the apartment she had once called home.
Harry didn’t look up when she entered. He was at the sink, rinsing dishes that were already clean. His back was tense. Every motion too precise.
“You left the door unlocked,” she said.
Still nothing.
Edna dropped her bag on the counter with more force than necessary. “So you’re just gonna pretend I’m not here?”
Harry set the plate down slowly and turned, wiping his hands on the towel like it gave him something to hold onto. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I almost didn’t.”
He met her eyes, and in that moment, the ache between them spoke louder than any words could.
She was tired. Not just from the drive. From them. From the way they hurt and healed in circles. From how much they loved each other, and how bad they were at it.
“I told myself I was done this time,” Edna said, walking past him. “I told myself I wouldn’t come back.”
Harry leaned against the counter, arms folded, like he needed to brace himself. “But you did.”
“I hate that you always look like that’s enough,” she snapped. “Like me showing up excuses everything.”
“It doesn’t,” he said quietly. “But I’m glad you're here.”
She turned to face him. “You lied to me, Harry.”
He flinched. “I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t mean to sleep with your past while building a future with me?” Her voice shook. “Tell me, how does that work?”
His jaw clenched. “It was a mistake.”
“You were my mistake,” she said coldly, then regretted it instantly.
Because even now, even after the lies, the betrayal, the broken promises — her heart still ached for him.
“I didn’t go back to her because I wanted her,” Harry said. “I went because I didn’t know how to be the man you deserved.”
“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s the truth.”
Edna shook her head, pacing. “We were supposed to grow together. You knew how fragile I was, how much it cost me to trust you. And you still—” Her voice cracked. “You still burned it all down.”
“I never stopped loving you.”
“Love isn’t the same as loyalty.”
Harry stepped closer. “Then why are you here, Edna? If you’re done with me, if I’ve broken it beyond repair... why did you come back?”
She looked up at him — the man who had held her through anxiety attacks, who had written her letters during her lowest nights, who had touched her like she was made of fire and glass. The same man who had shattered her with one selfish decision.
“Because I still love you,” she whispered. “Even when it hurts.”
He reached for her hand, but she stepped back.
“No,” she said. “Not yet.”
They stood in the silence again, the weight of everything they’d built and broken pressing in.
“Do you remember our first fight?” Edna asked.
Harry nodded. “I left. Slammed the door. You texted me three words.”
“Come back home.”
He gave a faint smile. “And I did.”
“I wanted that to be enough forever. Just those three words.”
“But this is bigger.”
“Yes.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “So what now?”
Edna walked to the window. The city outside blinked in neon and headlights, alive and uncaring. “Now... I decide if I can forgive you.”
Harry said nothing.
She turned slowly. “Do you even know what it felt like? Seeing her name on your phone. Hearing her voice on your voicemail. Knowing you lied to me with those same lips you swore love with?”
“I hated myself for it the second it happened.”
“But you still did it.”
“I was scared,” he said. “Of how much I needed you. Of how much power you had over me.”
“That’s not love, Harry. That’s fear.”
“No. It was love. I was just too broken to see it clearly.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “I gave you everything.”
“I know.”
“And I still want you.”
He moved closer, but didn’t touch her. His voice was soft. “Then let me fight for you now. Let me show you that I can choose you, every single day, from this day on.”
“I don’t want to be chosen after the damage is done.”
“You were never second choice. Not for a second. I was just too selfish to see the consequences.”
Edna stared at him — this man she had memorized, who knew how to read her silence and calm her storms. She loved him. That was the cruelest part.
“I don’t know how to trust you again.”
“I’ll wait,” Harry said. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
She finally let a tear fall, then another. And he did too.
No one moved. No one dared.
Then, slowly, Edna walked to him. Placed her hand against his chest — right where his heartbeat lived.
“I want to believe you,” she said. “I want to believe that we can fix this. But I need you to understand... this isn’t just about saying sorry. It’s about being sorry.”
Harry nodded, eyes never leaving hers. “Then I’ll be sorry every day. I’ll prove it in how I show up. In how I love you when you don’t want to be touched. In how I sit with your silence and listen with my heart.”
She closed her eyes.
He pulled her gently into his arms. And this time, she didn’t stop him.
They stood there for a long while. Two people with matching scars, trying to remember how to love each other without reopening the wounds.
“I want to go slow,” she murmured.
“As slow as you need.”
“I might pull away sometimes.”
“I’ll be right here.”
She looked up at him. “Even when it hurts?”
Harry smiled through the ache. “Especially when it hurts.”
And in that moment, they weren’t fixed. They weren’t healed. But they were trying.
And sometimes, that’s the bravest kind of love.
- Writer
