more [short story]

I was always taught to never say "i understand" or "i know what you're going through" because you don't. That's simply it. You can never understand what someone else is going through. But that was before he changed my mind.

It was the way he spoke, so bluntly, so honestly. It showed me he understood.

It was the way he touched me, so carefully, so meaningful. Showimg his need to be connected, to feel anchored.

But it was also in the way I felt when I opened up, saying things i'd never said to anyone, watching his gaze, seeing his patience when i needed to collect myself. His never wavering attention, communicating wordlessly saying that every word I said was important, was worth listening to.

I was worthy.
I was more.

More than my past. More than what others saw me as. But most importantly, I was more to him.