Whispers of a Hidden Heart
To be loved is to be known. That's probably the most obvious thing about love. It's not just about grand gestures or sweeping romance; it's in the little things. He knows me in ways I can't even fathom. He remembers the small details I often forget about myself---my favorite song when I'm sad, the way I take my coffee, the stories I tell in passing.
Yet, life has a way of unraveling even the deepest bonds. I was alone, holding the weight of his love and the unbearable emptiness of his absence, forever haunted by the echo of what we had and what was lost.
