"Sometimes, the harshest comment is the first door that love opens."
Shaddayy uploaded the photo with her heart racing.
Her, smiling, in a light blue dress, sitting on a bench in Rivadavia Park .
Behind her, a pink sunset painted the sky.
Caption:
"Today I felt beautiful. For the first time in weeks."
Within seconds, her friends replied:
Camila: You're stunning, Shayy! Where did you get that dress?
Lucía: That glow! The sunset did you justice.
Mía: It's like the universe smiled at you today. Don't ever forget that.
Shaddayy smiled.
It was little.
But it was something.
At home, no one ever said these words to her.
Not even her mother.
But then…
He appeared.
A comment beneath the others. Cold. Sharp. Like a blade.
Leonardo: "Beautiful"? Seriously? Looks like the sunset is crying over your filter choice.
Shaddayy frowned.
What?
She reread the message.
It wasn't a joke.
Profile: No photo. Just a black background.
Name: Leonardo M.
Location: Madrid, Spain.
Followers: Few.
Posts: None.
"Who does he think he is?" she muttered, gripping her phone.
Without thinking, she fired back:
Shaddayy: And who are you to talk? King of empty profiles? At least I have something to show. You've got a black screen and a dirty mouth.
She turned off her phone.
Lay down.
But couldn't sleep.
Why did a stranger's comment hurt so much?
Five Days Later
Shaddayy uploaded another photo.
This time, a painting: a butterfly trapped inside a raindrop.
Caption:
"Sometimes, beauty is born from confinement."
Her friends flooded her with love again:
Camila: This is your best work yet. It gives me chills.
Lucía: You should exhibit this. Seriously.
Mía: The butterfly is you. And one day, the drop will break.
Shaddayy smiled.
For a moment, she felt… seen.
Until he appeared again.
Leonardo: "Beauty is born from confinement." How deep. Did you get that from a coffee cup or a cheap self-help book?
Her blood boiled.
Shaddayy: If you don't understand art, maybe you shouldn't talk. Or do you just come here to ruin people's days?
Silence.
He didn't reply.
But that night, Shaddayy opened his profile.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Why did he only come to bother her ?
One Week Later
Shaddayy posted a story:
a coffee cup.
A napkin with handwriting:
"Today I'm not okay. But I'm still here."
That was it.
No plea for pity.
Just the truth.
Hours later, a notification.
Direct message.
From him.
Leonardo: What if "still here" isn't enough?
What if you need more than coffee?
Shaddayy stared at the screen.
She didn't reply.
Didn't block him.
She just saved the message.
Because, as much as she hated him…
He was the only one who saw her
when she pretended to be fine.
And that…
was dangerous.