thvasu
Some love stories aren't loud. They don't bloom under sunlight - they survive in silence.
Behind controlled expressions and carefully chosen words, something fragile is slowly shifting. What looks like strength may be restraint. What sounds like cruelty may.
."Please... no... I can't," she whispers, voice trembling, and yet she doesn't move. Beck stands beside her, hands clenched, voice sharp and cold. "Hold still," she orders, heart breaking at every tear she forces her to endure.
It's the space between them - the words left unsaid, the glances that linger too long, the quiet that grows heavier with each passing day.
"Don't move... I said, stay still," Beck adds, softer only for a moment, her own voice cracking. For an instant, the world feels impossibly fragile.
This is a story about the space between two people - the things left unsaid, the tension that lingers, and the cracks that form long before anyone admits they're there.
Not every fracture is visible.
But every fracture changes something.
How do you protect someone by hurting them?
How do you stay steady when your own heart is cracking?
"Beneath the Cracks... where love hurts, and cracks you cannot see."
----- Freen is g!p------