Love arrived for his funeral

Bryan The Boy Who Made Feel Small

CHAPTER ONE: BRYAN THE BOY WHO MADE ME FEEL SMALL

The Way He Saw Me I used to think being seen was the same thing as being loved. I know better now.But at nineteen, I didn’t.At nineteen, I thought love was something you held onto tightly even when it hurt because losing it felt worse than anything else. I didn’t know that sometimes, what you’re holding onto is the very thing breaking you. I met Bryan on a day that felt too ordinary to matter. If I could go back, I would pay more attention. To the way he looked at me.To the way he spoke. To the feeling in my chest that I mistook for excitement but was probably something else entirely.

“You don’t look like someone who belongs here.”

That was the first thing he said to me.

I remember staring at him, confused. “What does that mean?” He smiled slow, confident, like he had already figured me out.

“It means you’re different.”

Different.

I didn’t know then that “different” was the first thread he would use to pull me closer. I wish I could say I ignored him, That I walked away, That I didn’t care. But I did. I cared too quickly.Because there was something about the way he looked at me, Like I was worth noticing. Like I mattered. And maybe that says more about me than it does about him.When was the last time anyone made you feel special like that? I remember asking myself that question that night.

I couldn’t answer it.

So I let him in.

At first, it felt harmless.

He asked about my dreams, About the things I was too shy to say out loud. About love.

“What do you think love is?” he asked once.

I smiled a little. “Something that makes you feel safe.”

What makes you feel safe? He asked again

"You" with a blush all over my face.

He watched me for a moment before saying, “We’ll see about that.”I should have paid attention to that.To the way he said it.Not dismissive, not mocking.Just… certain, but I didn’t, because I was too busy feeling chosen.

“You’re not like other girls,” he told me one evening.

I remember laughing softly. “You’ve said that before.”

“And I’ll keep saying it,” he replied. “Because it’s true.” and putting a gentle kiss on my lips, he made me believe and fall for his words even more.

I want you, I want to feel you, let me make you feel like a woman, this words made me shiver....my legs lost balance, I couldn't hold back my emotions, so I let him in, yes we did it, he promised to be gentle and he did. Though it was my first time but I wanted him more than he wanted me. I moved like a pro, I gave the best position and I loved every bit of the way he made me feel.

"This is why I said you are different," he whispered to my ears making me desire him even more. But this time I couldn't move, I laid still, weak and burning pain as it was my first time, first love. I held onto those words longer than I should have. Long enough for them to become part of how I saw myself. If I’m different… then I have to be better.If I’m better… then I have to prove it. That was how it started. Not with pain, not with fear. But with the quiet need to be enough for someone who never planned to make me feel that way. The first time he made me question myself, it didn’t feel like a warning. It felt like advice.

“Why do you laugh like that?” Bryan asked one afternoon. I blinked, caught off guard. “Like what?” “It’s too loud,” he said, leaning back like it wasn’t a big deal. “You don’t have to try so hard.” I remember laughing again. But softer, Controlled. That night, I stood in front of my mirror longer than usual.I tried to laugh again, Quietly this time, Measured, Different. Is that better? I didn’t like it. But I didn’t like the idea of him not liking me even more.That was the beginning.The next time, it was my clothes.

“You can do better than this,” he said, looking me over. “I like it,” I replied, but my voice didn’t sound convincing even to me. “You think you do,” he said. “But you don’t.” I remember standing in my room later, staring at the same outfit. Turning slightly, Adjusting it, Second-guessing everything. Maybe he’s right, Maybe I don’t really know what suits me. That thought stayed longer than it should have, and slowly without realizing it I stopped trusting myself. Bryan didn’t need to raise his voice.He didn’t need to force anything. His words were enough.

“Send me a picture.”

I would.

“Where are you?”

I would answer.

“Who are you with?”

I would explain.

Each time, I told myself it was normal. That it meant he cared. But there was always this feeling.

Small. Uncomfortable. Like I was being watched, Measured, Judged, Why do you feel nervous when he asks simple questions? I ignored that thought. The way I ignored a lot of things. What hurt the most wasn’t the control. It was the emptiness. Bryan didn’t give. Not in the ways that mattered. I remember the day I called him. I had been standing under the hot sun, trying to calculate if the money I had would be enough to get me to school. It wasn’t, I hesitated before calling. I didn’t like asking for help, but I thought He’s my boyfriend, so I dialed the number.

“Hello?” his voice came through. “Hi… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Hmm."

“Can you help me with transport money? Just something small.” There was a pause, Then a sigh.

“Do you think money grows on trees?”

My chest tightened. “I just thought....”

“You girls always come with problems,” he cut in. “Always needing something.”

I remember going quiet. The sun suddenly felt hotter, The road louder.

“I’m sorry,” I said. Even now, I don’t know what I was apologizing for. Later that week, I met him again no apologies, no remorse for the way he spoke to. I waited to know if he would ask me how I was able to get to school without his help , but he never did. So I turned away pretending to be angry, and suddenly sighted the new shoes, Clean, expensive.

“You like them?” he asked, admiring himself.

“They’re nice,” I said.

“They should be. They cost a lot.”

I smiled, but something inside me cracked. So you have money… just not for me. That was when the truth started forming, Slowly, Painfully, It wasn’t that he couldn’t give. He just didn’t think I was worth giving to. So I asked him gentle, in a way that was never meant to provoke him. " Did you just choose not to give me the money I asked for." " Do you even really care about me or is it just my body that you want".

“Before me, who were you?” he asked.

I laughed awkwardly. “I was fine.”

He shook his head.

“No. I made you better, so I determine how this relationship works".

I didn’t argue.

But later that night, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, a thought came to me. If he made me better… why do I feel worse? That was the first time I questioned him, really questioned him but not enough to leave, Not yet.

Few days after we kept on going back and forth on who was wrong and and who was right, I became tired of constantly arguing with him and apologized since he was always the one who was right and I was wrong. Yes to him I was wrong.

My birthday should have been simple.

Just a small moment, Something soft, Something mine.

I woke up that morning expecting a call or message and checked my phone immediately.

Nothing.

“It’s still early,” I whispered to myself.

I waited. Morning passed. No message, I told myself he was busy that he would call later that he wouldn’t forget. Because forgetting me

That would mean something I wasn’t ready to accept. By afternoon, I had checked my phone so many times it started to feel embarrassing.

Why are you waiting like this?

I ignored the question, do you think he really cares? another thought.

Evening came. Still nothing. That was when the feeling started, That quiet, sinking feeling in my chest, The one I had learned to push away.

Maybe you don’t matter to him.

“No,” I said out loud, shaking my head slightly.

“He’s just busy.”

I kept defending him.

Even when he wasn’t there to defend himself.

Night came, and with it the truth I could no longer avoid. I opened my phone one last time, and there he was, Bryan! Laughing, Smiling. Holding a drink in a club that looked too expensive for someone who always claimed he had nothing. Surrounded by people, Happy. dancing, present and lively. Everything he had not been with me.

I stared at the screen, My chest tight. My throat dry.

So you remembered today… you just didn’t remember me.

That thought didn’t hurt immediately.

It settled slowly.

Deeply.

And then Everything became clear, All the excuses I had made, All the times I had ignored how I felt, All the moments I had chosen him over myself They all came rushing back at once.

I sat there in silence for a long time. Then I whispered something I had never said before.

“I deserve better.”

The next day, when his call came in, my heart started racing. Not because I was excited. But because I was afraid. Afraid that I would answer.

Afraid that I would go back, Afraid that I would forget everything I had finally understood. I stared at his name on my screen.

My thumb hovering, My chest tight.

If you answer, nothing changes.

If you answer, you go back to feeling small.

The phone kept ringing, And then I turned it face down. I didn’t answer.

He called again.

I didn’t answer.

He texted.

I didn’t reply.

And for the first time since I met him. Yes for the first time.

I chose myself. It didn’t feel strong.It didn’t feel powerful. It felt like loss, Like something inside me was breaking, But even through the pain There was something else, Something quiet.

Something new.

Peace.

Because for the first time I wasn’t losing myself to someone who never tried to keep me. My relationship with Bryan shaped the way I used to fell about love. " oh to hell with him, that scumbag used me like some thrash and I never noticed, or was I just blinded by love. what love! rubbish. what if I allowed him marry me, did he even have such plans for me?" Thank goodness it didn't happen" .