He never slept on time—not because he didn't want to, but because his mind refused to rest.
Every night, when the world slowly went quiet, his thoughts became louder. The room was dark, the phone screen the only light, and somewhere between unread messages and old chats, he always ended up thinking about her.
It had been one and a half years.
One and a half years of knowing her.
One and a half years of hiding his feelings.
One and a half years of fighting himself every single night.
He wanted to confess so many times. He wrote messages—short ones, long ones, emotional ones. He imagined how she might react. He imagined every possible ending.
Then fear arrived.
What if she leaves?
What if she stops talking to me?
What if I lose even this connection?
So he deleted everything.
"I can't lose her… not like this," he whispered to himself night after night.
His heart screamed for honesty.
His mind begged for safety.
Every day became a silent war between love and fear. And even though it hurt, he chose to stay silent—because staying felt safer than losing her completely.