Chapter Two: Cracks in the Silence

I used to think I was good at hiding my feelings.

I was wrong.

Because silence doesn’t stay silent forever.

It starts cracking.

And mine did.

At first, it was small.

I started replying faster to his messages.

I started waiting near places where I knew he would be.

I started finding excuses just to talk to him.

“By chance,” of course.

Nothing was by chance.

Everything was planned around him.

Every morning, the first thought in my head was him.

Every night, the last name on my lips was his.

And slowly, people began to notice.

“Why are you always with him?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Do you like him?”

I laughed it off.

Always.

“Don’t be stupid.”

But inside, I was screaming.

Yes.

Yes, I do.

More than you’ll ever know.

He still didn’t see it.

To him, I was just his “good friend.”

The one who listened.

The one who understood.

The one who stayed.

The one who never asked for more.

Sometimes, I caught myself staring at him for too long.

And when our eyes met,

I looked away first.

Always.

Because if he looked any deeper,

he would see everything I was hiding.

One evening, we were sitting together.

The sky was turning orange.

The wind was soft.

It felt like a movie scene.

He was scrolling on his phone, smiling.

I knew that smile.

It wasn’t for me.

“Who is it?” I asked casually.

He looked up. “Her.”

Just one word.

And my heart stopped.

He started talking.

How she was funny.

How she was different.

How he liked talking to her.

I nodded.

Smiled.

Pretended to be happy.

But inside, something broke.

Again.

That night, I cried for hours.

Not because he liked someone else.

But because I loved him first.

Because I loved him quietly.

Because I loved him alone.

And no one ever rewards silent love.

From that day on, I changed.

I became more careful.

More controlling.

More alert.

I checked his online status.

I noticed when he replied late.

I noticed when he chose her over me.

Every little thing hurt.

And every hurt made me cling more.

I told myself I was just being “protective.”

But deep down, I knew.

I was becoming afraid.

Afraid of losing him.

Afraid of being replaced.

Afraid of becoming nothing.

I started asking questions I never asked before.

“Why didn’t you reply?”

“Who were you with?”

“Why do you talk to her so much?”

He laughed sometimes.

“Why do you care so much?”

I never answered.

Because how do you explain

that someone owns your heart

without knowing it?

How do you confess

when you’ve spent years hiding?

One night, while staring at his photo on my phone,

I whispered,

“I love you.”

For the first time.

Out loud.

He wasn’t there.

But I felt lighter.

And scared.

Because once love is spoken,

even to empty air…

It wants to be heard.

And I knew—

Soon, my silence wouldn’t be enough.

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