I loved him quietly.
Not the loud, dramatic kind of love people write poems about.
Mine was soft. Patient. Invisible.
I loved him in the way you love someone when you don't think you're worth choosing — by staying, by understanding, by shrinking myself so he could shine.
And when he left, he didn't break my heart loudly either.
He simply walked away…
And I learned how silence can be the loudest kind of pain.
But this is not the story of the girl who waited.
This is the story of the girl who bloomed after the heartbreak.