The moment Diane shut the door behind her, the silence hit.
No voices, no footsteps, no one calling her name, just the quiet hum of her own breathing, uneven and shaky.
She hadn't sent him a text. She'd told him to his face.
Watched his brows knit in confusion, watched his lips part as if he wanted to say something , but she didn't stay long enough to let him.
She'd walked away before her voice could crack.
Now, standing in her room, it all replayed in her head ,the way his eyes softened, the way he whispered her name like a question.
She pressed her palms to her face, biting back a sob.
She wasn't crying because she missed him.
She was crying because the breakup made everything real.
Because now she couldn't hide behind the idea of "them."
The tears came easily this time, because she was finally admitting what she'd buried for too long.
She was crying for herself , for the part of her that was terrified of being known, of being different.
She had broken up with him for a girl.
For the girl.
And that truth terrified her.
The world outside wouldn't understand. Her friends wouldn't. Maybe even she didn't.
Loving a girl wasn't supposed to feel like sin.
It wasn't supposed to feel wrong.
But the world around her had already whispered enough times that it was.
Now that whisper echoed in her own mind.
She pulled her knees to her chest, hiding her face. She wished she could unfeel everything ,the spark, the softness, the way her heart had begun to find home in someone she wasn't supposed to love.
She'd always thought love was supposed to be simple , boy meets girl, hearts connect, and everything falls into place.
But nothing about what she felt was simple.
She curled up on her bed, whispering to herself like a secret:
"I love her."
And then, quieter
"But I shouldn't."
The words sat heavy on her tongue. The truth and the guilt wrestled in her chest until she couldn't tell one from the other.
For the first time, she wasn't scared of losing him.
She was scared of becoming herself.