Lost in the dark

The heartbreak of rules

Secondary school was almost over.

I could feel it in the air—the tension of exams, the endless lessons, the constant reminders that freedom was still so far away. And with that realization came a sinking feeling I couldn’t shake.

I couldn’t leave the house anymore. Not without permission. Not without my mother noticing. There was no one to sneak past, no way to run toward him like I used to. My heart ached in ways I had never imagined.

I sat on my bed that afternoon, my new phone clutched tightly in my hands, and I typed to him. My fingers trembled as I tried to put into words what I felt.

Daniel… I… I can’t get out like before. I can’t leave the house… I can’t see you. I’m sorry. I’m going to miss you. I… I’ll find a way, I promise…

The screen glowed back at me with his reply almost immediately. But the words he sent froze me, made the blood drain from my face, made my chest tighten so sharply I could barely breathe.

If I can’t see you for a month… it’s over. I can’t stay without seeing you. I… I can’t stand it. It’ll be like torture. You know that, don’t you?

I stared at the screen. My hands dropped to my lap. My tears came without warning.

Sixteen. Just sixteen.

And yet I felt like the weight of the world was pressing on my small shoulders. The person I loved most in the world had just made me feel like everything was at stake. Like my love, my loyalty, my very heart was being tested—and if I failed, the loss would be unbearable.

I cried until my body shook. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to be honest with my parents. I didn’t know how to explain that I loved someone so much, that I needed to see him, that even a day apart felt like a punishment.

The room felt small. My chest felt heavy. My stomach ached. And still, my mind kept spinning with one thought:

I couldn’t lose him.

I couldn’t disobey my parents.

And yet, I didn’t know how to reconcile the two.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted someone, anyone, to tell me what to do. But no one came. No one answered. I was alone with the screen, with his words, with the unbearable ache of missing him, and with the realization that love at my age could hurt this much.

I just cried.

And for a long time, I didn’t stop.