Notes on an Unsaid Love

So many people had told me: if you fall for him, you lose. It’s hard… knowing someone you can never have. Not even daring to confess because you already know the answer. I was never the first. I was always the second option. I never got to choose. “But… what does it feel like to be chosen?” I asked him quietly, hoping—just maybe—this indifferent man would notice the tremor in my voice. He looked at me. The sunlight caught in his hair as the wind lifted it, making him look even more… perfect. If only I could call him mine. He laughed softly. “That guy must be blind not to have chosen you. Who is he anyway? Maybe I should buy him glasses.” I laughed, shaking my head at his antics. He always knew how to make me smile, no matter how heavy my heart felt. That’s why I liked him. But the thought stung—he would never be mine. Only the luckiest girl would get to call him hers. “Hey! Don’t mock my language! I could dog-show you for that!” I scolded, laughing despite myself. “Nuh-uh! I’m your number one supporter!” He leaned closer, grinning. “Who is that guy anyway?” Then the world seemed to hush. The wind softened. The laughter of students below faded. Even my heartbeat—wild just moments ago—settled into a steady rhythm. We were alone on the rooftop, our secret escape. If there was ever a perfect place to confess, this was it. I took a deep breath. “Lennox…” I whispered. He noticed the change in my voice. The smile vanished from his lips, replaced by the seriousness in his gaze. “Hm? What is it?” Time slowed. The wind lifted his hair; the sun highlighted every sharp angle of his face. The way he looked at me—clean, unwavering, unaware of what I was about to say. Now. “The guy I… I’ve been talking about…” I swallowed, my voice trembling as I forced it steady. “It’s you.” His eyes widened. “Lennox, it’s been a long time,” I continued, my hands shaking slightly. “I don’t even know when it started. One day, I just realized… it wasn’t normal anymore. When you’re happy, I’m happy. When you’re sad… it feels like something’s missing in me.” He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. “I know you didn’t ask for this,” I added quickly, afraid he would stop me. “And I’m not expecting you to feel the same. I just… I just want you to know. I’m tired of hiding. Tired of loving you in silence.” I drew a shaky breath, forcing a smile through the tears forming in my eyes. “I… I like you, Lennox.” A long silence followed. I saw it in his expression—surprise. And as I expected, he didn’t respond immediately. Because that’s Lennox, always kind. He always puts others before himself. I know—right now, he’s thinking of my feelings, carefully weighing every move, trying to find a way to avoid hurting me. “Phoebe…” he murmured at last. Pain tightened my chest. I already knew. I knew what would come next. He stepped closer, just enough for me to feel the weight of his presence. He didn’t touch me—but the words that followed carried all the gravity of what he couldn’t say. “I didn’t know you felt this way,” he said earnestly. “And… thank you. Thank you for trusting me. What you did… it wasn’t easy.” He smiled—the familiar smile that had always given me courage. “You’re incredibly important to me, Phoebe,” he continued softly, careful not to hurt me. “Our friendship… it means the world. And I don’t want to mislead you. I don’t want to give you false hope.” It felt like a slow weight dropping in my chest. “I can’t return your feelings,” he admitted quietly. “But I want you to know… it’s not your fault. There’s nothing wrong with you. Loving someone… it’s never wrong.” I nodded, tears threatening to spill, but whispered, “It’s okay. I understand.” Silence returned. On the rooftop where I thought a romance would bloom, my secret hope ended instead. But even in the ache, there was a strange relief. Finally, I had spoken my truth. And even if he didn’t choose me… I chose to be honest with myself. We aren’t afraid of loving. We’re afraid of rejection. Afraid of knowing the truth—that the ones we love may never love us back. Afraid of the pain. But courage isn’t absence of fear. It’s facing it anyway.