I went back home, threw my bag on the bed, and tried to nap.
This was supposed to be my one escape — my way to stop my brain from spinning.
But no. Sleep wouldn't come.
All I could think about was him.
His words. His question. His eyes.
It was like my mind had turned into a loop — him, him, him.
Two choices:
Message him.
Or force myself to sleep.
This tiny decision suddenly felt like it could divide my life into two parts.
And I chose to message him.
I sat up, picked up my phone, fingers trembling.
"Wanna know what a girl might hate about you?" I typed.
Hit send. Put the phone away.
Within a second, his reply flashed on my screen.
My heart lurched.
I ran to my study room, closed the door, and sat on the floor so nobody could notice.
Then I told him.
Everything.
"You're too egoistic… you get so close to girls, it makes them uncomfortable…"
I poured a never-ending paragraph out of my diary — every thought I had scribbled about him that day.
And he?
He was calm. Chill. Promised to change.
Then he started talking about himself. Really talking.
"I got bullied in music school.
My parents were about to get divorced.
My mom left home.
It was just me and my dad. He'd come home late. I'd sit in silence, alone.
And then… this girl. Without even knowing my situation, she pulled me out of depression."
I froze.
This was the reason he loved her.
The reason she meant so much to him.
Am I too late?
Why wasn't I there when it happened?
Is this why he's so rebellious?
I guess broken homes make kids like this.
It's not his fault.
We talked for hours.
I messaged him at 3 p.m. Our conversation ended at 9 p.m.
Six hours.
I don't even know what we were talking about because half of me was convinced this was a dream.
Then he said:
"I saw a reel once. It said, don't message a girl to check if she cares about you — let her come to you.
So I stopped messaging her.
Our conversation faded.
Later, I heard from someone she just… got bored of me."
Ouch.
That one landed like a punch.
"Don't forget the ones who love you for the one you love," I told him.
But inside, I knew.
I knew I was never going to replace her. Not in this lifetime.
So then why?
Why was I sitting here, talking to him for six hours straight?
Why was my heart aching in places it shouldn't?
Am I being a good friend?
Or am I just… waiting for an opportunity?