I sit in silence, wondering how someone so good to me — Zhar — could make me feel so lost. He gives me everything — his patience, his care, his love — yet something inside me feels hollow. We look like the perfect couple; everyone says so. But inside, I feel nothing. I wish I knew why. I wish I could love Zhar the way he loves me. He deserves that. Maybe it’s the past still haunting me, the memories I can’t seem to forget. And in trying to figure myself out, I think I’m slowly breaking him too.

What am I doing right now? Who am I becoming? I never wanted to hurt Zhar, yet the more I tried to find myself, the more I lost him. I started spending time with other people behind his back, searching for the missing pieces of myself in strangers’ eyes. Deep down, I knew I was lying, I was cheating — not just on Zhar, but on the version of me I once wanted to be.

And then, we lost us. We lost trust. We broke. But even after everything, I still love Zhar — just not in the way I once thought I could. I know I need to heal myself. I can’t keep doing this, even though I miss him. It isn’t right. When Zhar asked me to end things, I did. But part of me still begged him to stay. He hit me with words sharp enough to cut through every piece of hope I had left — he wanted nothing more to do with me.

And now, once again, I’m lost. Just lost.

After everything that happened, I feel empty. There’s no comfort in me anymore — no warmth left to give or receive. I keep to myself most days, not because I want to, but because I no longer know how to let anyone in. Even when someone loves me, even when I try to love them back, it feels like nothing ever works. I want to, but I can’t. Something inside me just… doesn’t move anymore.

I don’t like to talk about what I’ve been through, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned — betrayal changes you. It cracks something deep inside, something words can’t capture. Since that day, my heart has been quiet. Cold. Numb. I feel like a stranger to myself, as if the person I used to be has been buried under the weight of hurt and regret.I see people love me, care for me, and yet I can’t return it fully. I want to, I really do, but the emptiness inside keeps swallowing the pieces of me that still want to feel. It’s as if my heart learned to protect itself by shutting down entirely, building walls so high even I can’t climb over them.

And then I met Zhar — the one who tried to treat me right. But even then, I hurt him too.

Hi, I’m June.

It had been quite a while since Zhar broke up with me, and the loneliness never really left. He seemed fine, even happy. After we ended, he went on, hanging out with his friends, enjoying life, while I was stuck trying to figure everything out — trying to figure out what I wanted, what I was doing, and how I could move forward.

I knew Zhar still cared about me. I knew he still loved me. But we both knew it wouldn’t work out, and it couldn’t. The guilt of what I’d done to him — the lies, the hurt, the betrayal — started eating me up like crazy. Slowly, I began to stop thinking about that other person. The obsession faded, replaced by the heavy weight of my own mistakes.

I started picking myself up. My friends were there, cheering me on, taking me out, keeping me busy. Their laughter helped a little, though the loneliness still lingered deep inside me.

And then… guess what? I came across something — or someone — that would change the rhythm of my days again.

I had always had a crush on him — the coach everyone whispered about back in school. Rumors painted him as this handsome, muscular man, the kind whose presence made people stop and stare. Naturally, I had to see for myself. And when I did… wow. He was even more mesmerizing than I imagined. His face, his build, the way he carried himself — it was impossible not to notice. At first, it was just a crush, the idol-like fascination you have for someone you barely know. Meanwhile, Zhar was still in the back of my mind, but this felt different — exciting, electric, even though I knew it was surface-level attraction.

A few weeks later, something unexpected happened. I opened my phone and saw that he had followed me. My heart skipped a beat. I was ridiculously excited for no logical reason at all. It felt like a small, perfect surprise from the universe.

Then came the badminton tournament. Heartbreak still clung to me, but fate has a funny way of showing up. I met one of his students and decided to sit next to her, asking about her coach in a playful, casual way. She was shocked I knew, but we started talking, laughing, and sharing stories. She even took a selfie with me and sent it to him. My chest fluttered a little, but it still felt grounded — I was still healing.

Hours later, my phone buzzed: “Is this you?” I answered casually, and that was how we started talking. Funny videos, jokes, and eventually, shared sadness. I told him about my heartbreak; he admitted his relationship was complicated too. No flirtation, no crush — just honesty, understanding, and connection.

By the end of the tournament, I was still heartbroken, not ready for anything more. But later, he texted saying he felt sad too. On July 25, we met. Not as lovers, not as anything serious. Just two people, broken and human, finding comfort in someone who finally seemed to understand.

The day he finally picked me up… oh my god, he took so long I was lowkey annoyed, but whatever. And then he came — and damn, I swear… fire, insane, hottttttt. No helmet, but that was okay.

We were planning to hit an amusement arcade, go on crazy rides, and on the way, I couldn’t help myself — I asked about his girlfriend. “Wait, you have a girlfriend… why are you hanging out with me?” He just told me they broke up. I wasn’t happy. I felt sad. I mean… I had just broken up too. Sad vibes all around.

Then, tragedy almost struck. Some car nearly hit us. Next thing I know, I’m hugging him like what is happening?! And then — oh lord — my hand touches something. His abs. His abs. I felt like a pervert. I couldn’t let go. My hand literally stuck there. He didn’t even move. So, naturally, I just… stayed there hugging him.

On the way, he kept asking me a million questions, and I told the stupidest jokes of my life. He was weird, kind of annoying, but also… handsome enough that I couldn’t really complain.

Then, we randomly changed plans and decided to go see a movie. When I got off, somehow, I found myself holding his arm. Not intentional, I swear. It just… happened.

And he just kept asking questions — so many questions — but he was sweet. Like, an act of service type of sweet. I told him my leg hurt, and the next second, he was massaging it. We had literally just met.

The movie was great. He was respectful, nice, and fun — though his jokes? So lame. Seriously, man. But I didn’t care.

After the date, he gave me a bracelet — the same one he had been wearing on his hand. I couldn’t believe it. We talked a lot, though honestly, I barely remember everything we said. All I remember is his handsome face, his laugh, and how alive he made me feel.

He laughed so much while he was around me, and I could see that even though he seemed like a quiet person, he genuinely enjoyed my company. I must have been so funny, because he couldn’t stop laughing the whole time. I could feel it — he adored me.

He was just… a really nice guy. Thoughtful, sweet, paying attention to the little things. On the way home, he even brought me a drink without me asking. He just… knew. He read me so well, and it made me feel… seen. Really seen.

On the way home, I started talking about Zhar to him. I even showed him a picture of us. But strangely, I didn’t feel sad — not really. It felt more like I was cherishing the memory, acknowledging it without pain.

Bai, though… he was different. Warm, gentle, never forcing anything, just giving. I found myself thinking that I liked this kind of guy. There was no pressure, no pretense. Just honesty and understanding.

We didn’t have any romance, at least not in the usual sense. We shared pieces of ourselves that we couldn’t tell anyone else — our sadness, our heartbreak, the parts we kept hidden. And yet, even in that sharing, there was a comfort I hadn’t felt in a long time.

When I got back home, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I liked this type of guy — someone who could listen, laugh, and just be there without demanding anything in return. But a part of me wondered if he was playing me, if this was just temporary. I didn’t know yet. All I knew was that I felt seen, and for now… that was enough.