My Best Friend, My Crush

Chapter 2:When feelings Start to Hurt

Chapter 2: When Feelings Start to Hurt

They say university is where you find yourself.

For me, it was where I started losing pieces of myself.

I lost myself each time Alexander walked past me to sit beside another girl in the lecture hall.

I lost myself whenever I texted him, and he replied hours later with just “lol.”

I lost myself every time I saw him smiling at his phone—knowing I wasn’t the reason.

I was still his “best friend,” but things were changing. Slowly, painfully.

He was making new friends, new memories… without me.

At first, I told myself it was just the excitement of school life. “He’s just trying to adjust,” I’d say. “He’ll come back.”

But days turned to weeks.

And then came her.

Sandra.

That was her name.

I heard it before I saw her. Someone mentioned it during a group assignment. “Alexander and Sandra,” the girl giggled. “They’re like so cute together.”

Something in my chest shifted.

I tried not to show it.

I tried to act like I didn’t care.

But the day I saw them walking together after class—his hand casually brushing hers, both of them laughing like they had known each other forever—I knew it.

This wasn’t like the other girls.

Sandra was different.

She was confident. Pretty. Smart. And worst of all, she knew it.

She knew Alexander liked her.

And she liked him back.

I was the third wheel in a story I didn’t want to be part of.

Later that day, I asked him about her. Casually. Like it was just gist.

“So… who’s the new friend?” I said, forcing a smile.

He looked up from his food. “Sandra? Oh, she’s cool. We’ve been hanging out.”

I nodded. “She seems nice.”

“She is,” he said. And for the first time in forever, I saw it.

That glow.

That light in his eyes when he talked about someone he liked.

The kind of light I had dreamed of seeing whenever he talked about me.

It never came.

And that night, I cried.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just small, quiet tears under my blanket, with my pillow pressed against my chest.

How do you compete with someone who doesn’t even know she’s in a competition?

How do you hold onto someone who doesn’t even know you’re holding on?

I started avoiding him.

Not completely, but enough to keep my heart safe.

I stopped replying quickly to his messages.

I stopped waiting outside his lecture hall like I used to.

When he asked me if something was wrong, I’d smile and say, “Nothing.”

But everything was wrong.

I was breaking.

And no one could see it.

Except for my roommate, Mariam.

One night, she found me crying again. I didn’t mean to cry. I was just lying on my bed, scrolling through i********:, when I saw a picture.

Alexander and Sandra.

He had posted it on his story.

“Movie night with my girl,” the caption read, with two red heart emojis.

That was it.

I dropped my phone and turned to face the wall.

Mariam sat beside me, rubbed my back, and said softly, “You love him, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

Because saying it out loud would make it real.

But she knew.

“I’ve been watching you,” she continued. “The way you talk about him. The way your mood changes when he calls. It’s okay to love him, Anabel. But does he love you back?”

That question stayed with me all night.

Does he?

Did he ever?

Or was I just the background character in his life story?

The “best friend” who would always be there… until she wasn't needed anymore?

I knew I couldn’t take it anymore.

So the next day, I made a decision.

I was going to tell him.

Everything.

---

I rehearsed the words in my head over and over again.

"I like you, Alexander."

Or maybe, "I’ve been in love with you since secondary school."

Or just… "I’m tired of pretending."

But every version felt too heavy, too risky.

What if he didn’t feel the same way?

What if I ruined everything?

But I couldn’t keep holding it in anymore.

So, I picked a Thursday evening.

We were both done with lectures for the day. I called him and asked if we could meet up after Maghrib prayer. There was a small quiet spot behind the library — a shaded area with stone benches and little flowers around. We used to study there sometimes in our first semester.

He said, “Sure. I’ll be there.”

I wore my favorite gown. The mustard yellow one that hugged my skin just right and made me feel confident, even if just for a while. I tied my scarf neatly and used a little perfume.

As I walked to the meeting spot, my heart beat like someone was drumming inside my chest.

He was already sitting there, earphones in, scrolling through his phone.

He smiled when he saw me.

“Anabel the ghost!” he teased. “You’ve been avoiding me o.”

I forced a laugh. “I’ve been busy.”

He patted the seat beside him. I sat. For a moment, we said nothing. The evening breeze blew gently through the trees. Somewhere nearby, someone was singing softly. Everything felt slow, calm, but loud in my chest.

I turned to him and said, “I need to tell you something.”

He looked at me, serious now. “What’s wrong?”

I hesitated.

This was it.

No turning back.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Alexander,” I said softly. “Since secondary school. Since we were kids. I’ve tried to stop, I’ve tried to ignore it, but I can’t. I love you. And I’ve loved you for years.”

Silence.

For a moment, I thought the world had stopped turning.

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then he looked away, his jaw slightly clenched.

“Anabel…” he started. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t.”

“I know,” I said. “I never told you.”

He scratched his head. “This is a lot. I… I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” I whispered. “I just wanted you to know.”

He looked at me again. “You’re my best friend, Anabel. You’ve been there for me in ways no one else has. But I’ve never thought of you… like that. Not because you’re not amazing. You are. But… I just didn’t.”

I nodded, even though my eyes burned.

“I understand.”

“Please don’t let this change things,” he said quickly. “You’re important to me. I still want us to be friends—”

I smiled, but my lips trembled. “It’s fine.”

And I meant it. Partly.

But my heart?

My heart felt like it had been cracked open, poured out, and stepped on.

He didn’t feel the same way.

All these years.

All those moments I thought meant something — the hugs, the late-night talks, the laughs, the inside jokes — they were just friendship to him.

Just… friendship.

I got up slowly.

“Anabel, please don’t go like this.”

“I’m okay,” I lied. “I’ll be fine.”

And I walked away.

Tears stung my eyes before I even made it to my hostel gate. I waited until I got into my room before I broke down completely.

Mariam hugged me. She didn’t ask. She just held me while I cried into her lap like a child.

I didn’t go to class the next day. Or the day after that.

Alexander texted. Called. Even came to my hostel once. I didn’t respond.

Because for the first time in my life… I needed to choose myself.

I needed space to breathe, to feel, to heal.

Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is one of the most painful things you can ever experience.

It makes you question everything about yourself.

Am I not enough?

Is something wrong with me?

Why her and not me?

But in all the pain, I realized something.

I had spent years pouring my love into someone else.

Now, it was time to pour that love into myself.