Almost Wasn't Enough

I knew before he ever said it. There's a certain kind of silence that speaks louder than any goodbye, and I'd been hearing it in him for days now. The way he'd answer my texts slower than usual, say "I love you" with less weight. I kept telling myself I was imagining it, that love doesn't just disappear. But maybe it does. I don't really know. I want to believe we are meant to be. That somehow, despite all the chaos and timing and wrong turns, we'll find our way back to each other. Because when we were good, we were magic. He made me laugh at the stupidest things, made me feel seen in a way no one else ever had. And I, God, I love him so much it terrifies me. But there was a night, when I asked my bestfriend to ask the question I've been avoiding to ask for days, "Do you still love me?". He hesitated. "I don't really know," he said softly. "But I don't know if I feel the same as how I used to." I just stared into space. I wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to try and still feel that spark that we have between us. To remind him of the way he used to talk to my best friend about me. But all I did was look at the text and say okay, because maybe this was how it was meant to be. I didn't ask him for more. I didn't try to change his mind. Because love that has to be begged for isn't real love. And the truth? We never really ever belonged to each other. Well certainly not fully. But it seemed as if something always got in the way, timing, distance or a feat of falling in love again. But we at least still tried. We still gave pieces of ourselves to something that was always slipping through our fingers and never really kept in the palm. I still love him. I hate that I do. I now know loving someone isn't always going to be enough to make them stay. And sometimes, the person you'd do anything for is the one who teaches you how to finally let go. And that's the part that hurts the most. We were so close. So painfully close. But "almost" just wasn't enough...