ELLE'S POV -
When you’re in love, you rarely think about endings. You live in the present, dreaming about a future that feels so certain, so inevitable. But cracks often form in silence, slowly and quietly, until one day, they’re impossible to ignore.
The days after our conversation were a strange mix of effort and avoidance. He tried to be more present, and I tried to convince myself that things were getting better. But love, I realized, wasn’t just about trying—it was about being. And neither of us could truly be there for the other anymore.
---
The first real fracture came on a day that should have been perfect. It was a bright, sunny Sunday, and we had planned to spend the afternoon together. I’d been looking forward to it all week, hoping it would remind us of the simplicity of just being with each other.
But when I arrived at the café where we were supposed to meet, he was already there, his face buried in his phone.
“Hey,” I said, sliding into the seat across from him.
“Hey,” he replied, barely glancing up.
I tried to make conversation, but his responses were curt, his attention clearly elsewhere. Frustration bubbled inside me, but I bit my tongue, determined not to ruin the day.
It wasn’t until his phone buzzed for the fifth time that I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Is everything okay?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Yeah, just a group project thing,” he said, putting his phone down reluctantly.
“Can’t it wait?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not a big deal. Why are you making it one?”
His words stung, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. “Because,” I finally said, “it feels like you don’t want to be here.”
“That’s not true,” he said, his voice defensive. “I’m just… busy.”
“Busy,” I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “You’re always busy.”
---
The argument that followed wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was quiet, filled with half-finished sentences and unspoken emotions. By the time we left the café, the gap between us felt wider than ever.
---
In the days that followed, we began to drift further apart. Our conversations grew shorter, our meetings less frequent. The small, thoughtful gestures that once defined our relationship disappeared, replaced by an uncomfortable sense of obligation.
Even when we were together, it felt like we were miles apart. We’d sit in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts, neither of us brave enough to address the growing distance.
---
One evening, as I lay in bed scrolling through old photos of us, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. There we were, smiling and carefree, two people who genuinely believed that love would be enough to conquer anything.
I wondered when things had changed. Was it a gradual shift, or had we simply been too blind to see the cracks forming?
---
The next time we met, I decided to address it. We were sitting on a bench in the college garden, the sun setting behind us.
“I feel like we’re losing each other,” I said, my voice trembling.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored my own. “I feel it too,” he admitted.
“So what do we do?” I asked, desperate for an answer, a solution, anything that could fix us.
“I don’t know,” he said after a long pause. “I wish I did.”
---
That night, I realized something painful but undeniable: love, no matter how strong, couldn’t survive on its own. It needed time, effort, and a shared commitment to weather life’s storms. And somewhere along the way, we had lost that.
For the first time, I began to wonder if holding on was the right thing to do—or if it was time to let go.
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A/N
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Her Senior School crush
Short StoryPrologue In the world of college life, words are often thrown around like confetti-light, colorful, and sometimes lacking substance. They say things to fill the silence, to create connections, and to express feelings that often remain hidden beneath...
