WHEN LOVE HURTS

WHEN LOVE FELT SAFE

"When Love Felt Safe, Before It Learned to Hurt"

"Whitney used to believe love was supposed to feel soft. Certain. Safe.

Like a hand resting on your back in a crowded room not gripping, not forcing, just there. A quiet reminder that you weren’t alone. Love, to her, was reassurance without asking. Warmth without effort. It was knowing someone would show up emotionally, even on the days they didn’t know what to say. Never giving up on you no matter what.

That was how Jasen felt in the beginning.

She remembered the early days clearly, the way memory often sharpened what the present tried to erase. The quiet smiles, the comfortable silences that didn’t feel empty back then. The way he looked at her every second, listened when she talked, even if he didn’t always respond with words. At first, she thought that meant depth, stability, safety.

He was calm in a world that overwhelmed her. While her emotions came in waves, his were still water. Whitney thought they balanced each other out: where she was loud, he was grounding. Where she felt too much, he felt just enough.

She didn’t realize then that still water could also mean hidden depth or distance.

Whitney lay on her bed now, phone face down beside her, staring at the ceiling as sunlight slipped through the curtains. The room was quiet, but her mind wasn’t. It never was anymore. Thoughts replayed themselves like a song stuck on repeat unfinished conversations, unread messages, moments she wished she had explained better or maybe not explained at all.

She could hear the faint hum of traffic outside, the occasional bird tapping on the window sill. It should have felt peaceful, but it didn’t.

Jasen hadn’t texted her good morning.

It was a small thing. Insignificant, really. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. She hated how her heart noticed these things automatically, how it counted time and tone, how it memorized patterns and panicked when they shifted. She hated that silence affected her more than words ever could.

In the beginning, his silence never scared her. Back then, silence felt peaceful. It felt earned. Jasen had been different from anyone she’d ever loved. He wasn’t loud with affection. He didn’t flood her phone with sweet messages or grand promises. Instead, he showed up. Walked her home. Sat beside her during lunch even when he barely spoke. Remembered the little things .... how she hated crowded hallways, how she liked her fries extra crispy, how she always pretended she wasn’t cold just to avoid asking for a jacket.

Those were the things that made Whitney fall. He made her feel chosen without saying the word.

She could still remember the first time it happened, the exact moment she realized she was falling for him. They’d been sitting on a faded bench in the park after school, the sun sinking low, casting long orange shadows across the pavement. Whitney had been talking about something silly , a movie she hated, a joke her friend had told but he had just listened. He didn’t laugh, didn’t try to fix her day, didn’t tell her to stop rambling. He had just… stayed. And in that moment, with the wind brushing against her hair and his quiet presence beside her, she felt it. That calm she didn’t know she had been craving. That feeling that someone could be your anchor without even trying.

But lately, the silence felt heavier. It lingered too long. It sat between them during conversations, stretched into hours, then days. And no matter how many times Whitney tried to convince herself that actions mattered more than words, her heart kept asking the same quiet question:

"Why does loving me feel so easy for everyone else but so hard for you to express?"

She rolled onto her side and picked up her phone, unlocking it without thinking. No new messages. Not from him. Her chest tightened anyway, that familiar ache blooming beneath her ribs.

Whitney had always loved deeply. Openly. Too openly, some would say. She didn’t know how to hold back when she cared. Love, to her, wasn’t something you rationed—it was something you poured out fully, even if it left you empty sometimes.

Growing up, she’d learned that love meant sacrifice, staying, trying harder. Explaining yourself until the other person finally understood.

Her first love had been a boy named Eli in middle school. She remembered the way she had stayed up all night thinking about him, writing his name in notebooks she would never show anyone. She remembered the first time she gave him her jacket when it was cold outside, and the small thrill it gave her to see him smile. She had been so young, so naive, and yet she had learned the same lesson she kept repeating now: love was something to be given fully, even if it hurt.

So when Jasen grew silent day by day, she didn’t pull away. She leaned in. She asked questions. Sent long messages. Checked in more often. Tried to fill the spaces his silence created with reassurance, hoping one day he’d meet her there. Hoping he’d see how much she was trying and realize she was worth the effort.

But effort, she was starting to learn, didn’t look the same to everyone.

Whitney closed her eyes, letting memories drift back the version of them that still felt unreal now. The way Jasen used to look at her when he thought she wasn’t watching. The rare moments when he’d open up just enough to make her believe there was more beneath the surface, something only she had access to.

She remembered the rainy day they got caught walking home. Whitney had forgotten her umbrella, and he had shrugged, handed her his jacket, and let her walk under it while he got soaked. They hadn’t said much. There hadn’t been any grand gestures or declarations, just small moments like that the kind that made a person feel seen. She had felt so lucky, like she had stumbled into a world where someone quietly chose her every day.

Those moments were dangerous. They made her stay longer than she should have.

Because when Jasen did show emotion, it felt earned, precious. Like proof that she mattered enough to break through his walls. She clung to those moments, replayed them in her mind whenever doubt crept in.

He just loves differently, she’d tell herself. He shows it in his own way.

And maybe that was true.

But lately, his way of loving felt like absence.

Whitney sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. The house was quiet, too quiet. Everyone else was out, living their lives, unaware of the war happening quietly inside her chest. She wondered when she’d started feeling this lonely while still being in a relationship. She wondered when loving him had begun to feel like proving herself.

Her phone buzzed suddenly, and her heart leapt before her mind could stop it. She grabbed it quickly, too quickly.

A notification.

Not him.

The disappointment settled deep, heavier than she wanted to admit. Whitney exhaled slowly, pressing the phone against her chest as if that might calm the ache. She thought to herself " I love Jasen but does he loves me? No ,no , no ...did he ever loved me? If so , why does he treats me this way ? Does he really thinks about other people's feelings or..." Whitney sighs in her anxiety thinking when this pain she has in her heart will vanish away ...

She loved Jasen. That part had never been a question.

But love wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like waiting. Like guessing. Like shrinking yourself so someone else didn’t feel overwhelmed by how much you cared.

She didn’t need constant attention. She didn’t need perfection. She just needed to feel seen , Chosen , Reassured.....

And somewhere between the quiet mornings and the unanswered messages, between the things she said and the things he never did, something had begun to c***k.

She didn’t know it yet.....

Whitney stands up from her bed and slowly drop her phone on her pillow and walks gently to her window. Exhaling the dry atmosphere all of a sudden everything seems like a burden lifted up to the wind to carry it all away . She says to herself silently " I wish I could stop thinking about everything concerning jasen but why ? I thought love was supposed to be a safe space , my comfort, a beautiful thing so why does it hurts this much Jasen , tell me why it hurts so damn much !! " Looking so pale and drained , Whitney leaves her room with anger , pain and a broken heart.......

But this was how love started to hurt.

Not all at once.

But slowly , Quietly.......

The same way it once felt safe.