06. April 2025
No, I don't love him.
What I loved was the constant messages, the series of calls he made at night, his funny jokes, and all those sweet nothings whispered through the line.
What I loved was the song that reminded him of us, the name he had given me when I was nameless, his deep chuckles, and all those spoken promises buried in his heart.
What I loved was the comfort of his embrace, the hands that held mine as we walked through the crowd, his deep-set gaze, and all those smirks carved on his lips.
What I loved was the pain in his voice, the crisp curses he uttered on March 22nd, his bleeding heart, and all those thorns I left around it.
What I loved was the hate in his pitch-black eyes, the random chats during summer, his attempt to find another, and all those drawbacks he committed.
What I loved was the years that had gone by, the first call after four years, his birthday message on May 11th, and all those emojis left on read.
What I loved was the wavering of his faith, the drunk call he made at midnight, his outburst, and all those unspoken confessions down his throat.
What I loved was the silence that had taken over, the hesitations stirring inside his chest, his sudden apologies, and all those rules he broke for me.
What I loved was the embrace under the scorching sun, the stunned expression painted on his face, his long, sleek fingers, and those neck kisses behind closed doors.
What I loved was the little sway around the living room, the scent of perfume he left on my pillow, his addiction to chasing games, and all those heavy, fading steps.
What I loved was the three-year relationship he traded, the misery he came across, his ceaseless obsession with the things he couldn't have, and all those guilt he had to face as long as I existed.
What I loved was the letter he couldn't burn, the truth behind his lies, his agony, and all those unshed tears at every goodbye.
What I loved was the unanswered call on May 27th, the union he had decided on right after, his vows, and all those new beginnings he's feigned to live.
What I loved was the shadow loomed over his marriage, the condescending mockery of fate, his wedding ring, and all those unsaid remorse reflected in his gaze.
No, I don't love him.
—georginariver
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