Achinghearts Stories

I never planned to love him. He was supposed to be just another passing voice, another face I could admire from a distance and forget. But Omar was never forgettable. From the very first moment, he carved his way into the quiet corners of my life, like sunlight slipping through a closed window, like water seeping into cracks I thought were sealed. He wasn't mine not then, not now. Maybe not ever. Yet he became my favorite habit, my daily ache, my impossible dream. Every word from him was a lifeline, every silence a punishment. I learned to live in the in-between of what he gave me and what I wished he would. This isn't the story of us. It's the story of almost us.