𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃

32

Song:
delicate- taylor swift
slowed + reverb

LEENA

All those things I had told myself-the promises I made about not giving in, about not chasing after him anymore-suddenly seemed meaningless and vanished in an instant.

How could I possibly stick to any of those resolutions when he finally opened up to me, when he finally gave in? The reasons behind it all only made me want to hold him close and never let him go.

I felt the pain for him, so of course, I forgave him.

When he told me about his mom, everything clicked. I suddenly understood why he pushed me away. He believed that he couldn't be happy because of what had happened.

He was so full of guilt, that he truly believed he was at fault for his mother's death.

The anger and hurt that I once felt dissipated, and understanding and longing replaced it. I just wish I knew sooner. I wished that he didn't have to keep everything in. But I was glad that he finally spoke about it.

Now that he's finally shared his truth with me, it only feels right-fair, even-that I do the same.

He let down his walls, exposed the pain he's been carrying, and I owe him the same vulnerability. It's time for me to tell him about my mother, to reveal the part of my life I've kept hidden. He deserves to know, just as I now understand the burden he's been shouldering alone.

"Angel?" I murmur softly, my voice breaking the comfortable silence between us as I glance down at him from where I'm straddling his waist. His head rests lazily against the pillow, a relaxed expression softening his features, while his hands rest lightly on my hips, the warmth of his touch grounding me.

A moment passes before he responds, a deep, contented hum vibrating from his chest. "Hm?" he finally mutters, his eyes half-lidded as if he's savoring the stillness of the moment.

The sound sends a familiar flutter through my heart, making it harder to hold back the thoughts in my mind.

After everything that happened earlier, I made the decision to stay over at his place. I just couldn't bring myself to leave him alone after going through all of that. His dad wasn't home, so it was just us two.

It didn't feel right to walk away when he clearly needed someone there with him. I chose to stay by his side, offering whatever comfort and support I could.

My fingers toy absentmindedly with the soft fabric of his black t-shirt, a small, grounding gesture as I gather the courage to speak. "I want to tell you... about my mom," I finally say, my voice quieter than I intended.

The weight of the words hangs between us, heavy and significant. He would be the first person I've ever shared this with. Not even my closest friends knew.

It wasn't because I didn't trust them or wanted to keep it hidden-it was simply because I couldn't bear the thought of talking about it. The idea of them looking at me with pity, their eyes filled with sympathy, made my chest tighten.

I didn't want to be treated differently or seen as fragile. But deep down, I also understood that one day, I'd have to tell them too.

It was just easier to keep the pain locked away. But right here, with him, it felt different. It felt like I could finally let some of it go.

"You don't have to tell me anything if you're not ready, Leena," he says softly, his voice steady and reassuring. "Just because I shared something with you doesn't mean you owe me the same in return. You don't have to open up if it's not the right time for you. Whatever you're feeling, it's okay." His words are gentle, but there's an undeniable sincerity behind them, making me feel safe and understood.