I will always love you

Chapter 5: The Weight of Silence

I didn’t go home immediately. I couldn’t. The air outside felt fresher, the coolness a sharp contrast to the warmth of the café. The rain had returned, a gentle patter on the pavement, but I barely noticed it as I walked through the city. My mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts of him—his voice, his touch, his words that had somehow wormed their way under my skin.

I wasn’t used to this. I wasn’t used to anyone making me feel... exposed. He saw something in me I wasn’t ready to share, a vulnerability I had buried so deep that even I had forgotten it existed. And yet, there it was, raw and trembling, like it had been waiting for someone to notice.

The streets blurred as I walked, the sound of my shoes against the wet ground a steady rhythm that echoed in my ears. I didn’t have a destination, just the need to put as much distance as possible between myself and him.

I turned into a small park, a quiet corner of the city that I sometimes sought when I needed to think. The trees around me were thick with dark green leaves, their branches heavy with rain, and I sat down on one of the benches, letting the chill air settle into my bones.

It felt good to be alone.

And yet, it didn’t.

I closed my eyes, trying to push him from my thoughts, but every time I tried, his face appeared, his soft smile, the way he had looked at me with understanding—too much understanding. I had to shake my head, as if I could physically rid myself of the images.

"Why did you have to come into my life?" I muttered to no one, the words a mix of frustration and... something else. Longing? No, that wasn’t it. But I couldn’t deny the tug I felt when I thought about him.

I was no fool. I knew how this would go. I had been down this road before—letting someone in, getting attached, only to watch it all fall apart. It was safer to keep everyone at arm’s length. People were unpredictable. They hurt you when you least expected it.

I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

But I also knew, deep down, that it was already too late. I was already invested, and despite my best efforts to stay distant, something about him made me want to trust him. Made me want to believe that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t like the others.

But that kind of thinking was dangerous.

I had to get a grip.

The sound of footsteps on wet leaves broke my thoughts. I glanced up, startled, and saw him standing a few feet away, his figure outlined against the dimming sky. He was wet from the rain, his dark jacket clinging to his frame, but he didn’t look uncomfortable.

I stood up instinctively, a rush of panic flooding my chest. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice sharp, though I didn’t mean it to be.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "I was worried about you."

Worried? That caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected that. I thought he’d leave it alone, let me retreat into myself as I always did. But there he was, standing in front of me, concern etched in his eyes.

"I told you, I need space." I stepped back, hoping the distance would create a boundary that neither of us could cross.

"I know," he said, his voice gentle. "But sometimes, space doesn't fix things. It just lets them fester."

I stiffened at the words. "I’m fine," I said quickly, though I didn’t believe it myself. "I don’t need anyone’s help. Especially not yours."

He didn’t move closer. He just stood there, waiting. "I’m not trying to fix you," he said, his voice softer now. "I’m just here. No strings, no pressure. I just don’t want you to be alone."

The silence between us stretched, and I could feel the weight of his words sinking in. There was no urgency in his tone, no need for me to respond in any particular way. He wasn’t asking for anything from me. He was just... here.

I looked away, unwilling to meet his gaze. The last thing I needed was for him to see the turmoil inside me.

"I don’t want to drag you into my mess," I muttered, more to myself than to him.

"You don’t have to," he replied quietly. "But you’re not alone, unless you want to be."

It took everything in me not to break down at those words. I didn’t want to need anyone. I didn’t want anyone to care. But there was something about the way he said it, the simple sincerity in his voice, that made me feel like I didn’t have to do this alone.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. "I don’t know how to do this," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to let anyone in again."

His expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing through his eyes. "I’m not asking for anything," he repeated. "I’m not going anywhere. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here."

I shook my head, frustrated by how easily he seemed to accept me, flaws and all. "I don’t want to talk," I said quickly, almost defensively. "I just need time."

He nodded slowly, not pushing any further. "Then take it. But just know, you don’t have to be alone in this."

I wanted to argue, wanted to tell him to leave, to stop being so persistent, so understanding. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just nodded, my heart heavy with a mix of emotions I couldn’t fully understand.

He turned to leave, but then paused, looking back at me. "You know where to find me," he said softly before disappearing into the rain.

I stayed there long after he was gone, letting the silence settle around me again. But it wasn’t the same silence it had been before. It wasn’t empty anymore. It was filled with something I couldn’t quite name—a crack in the armor I had built around myself, a crack that was slowly starting to widen.