"Before my dad died, my home was loud in a way that hurt.
Mom was always angry.
Dad was always tired.
And I was always quiet.
They fought a lot.
Sometimes about money.
Sometimes about nothing.
Sometimes just because they didn't know how to stop.
Mom used to scold me for small things.
Why are you like this?
Why don't you talk more?
Why are you always silent?
Dad was the only one I could talk to.
He listened.
He understood.
He made space for me.
Then one day, he didn't come back.
A bus accident.
Just like that.
I didn't know how to handle it.
The one person I could say everything to... was gone.
After that, mom changed.
Not loudly, but deeply.
She was full of guilt.
Guilt for being angry.
Guilt for not loving him the way she should have.
For one whole year, we lived in the same house but didn't really talk.
We were both hurting, but neither of us knew how to reach the other.
At school, things got worse.
I got bullied.
I stayed quiet.
I learned how to disappear in plain sight.
Nothing worked out there.
So we left.
We came here to start over.
And then...
there was you.
Because of you, things slowly started feeling normal again.
You talked to me like I mattered.
You stayed.
You didn't rush me.
And somehow... I opened up."
I listened to him.
Every word.
Every pause.
Every breath he took between sentences.
I wanted to say something, anything but my voice refused to come out.
What do you say to someone who has carried that much pain alone?
I wished I could hug him.
Just once.
But all I had was a phone pressed against my ear.
When that voice note came seven seconds of quiet crying, my hands started shaking.
I didn't think.
I didn't wait.
I called him immediately.
"Hey..." I said softly when he picked up.
"What happened?"
There was silence at first.
Then I whispered, "You don't have to hide from me.
You can tell me anything.
I'm here."
That's when his breath broke.
And without trying to be strong anymore...
he let himself fall apart.
Now, there is only silence.
I could hear his breathing.
He could hear mine.
And then... we both cried.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly.
Like two tired hearts finally letting go.
After a while, he spoke.
"It's okay," he said softly. "I'm fine now. I think... I finally have someone I can share everything with."
My chest tightened.
"Thank you so much, Prakirti," he continued.
"Please... don't leave me."
I shook my head even though he couldn't see me.
"Don't say that," I whispered.
"You're the one who helped me. I don't think... I could live without you either."
And we cried again.
After that night, things became normal.
But also... different.
We got closer than before.
Too close to explain.
We started meeting secretly after school.
Small walks.
Quiet corners.
Shared silence.
He became my safe place.
I became his.
We didn't say I love you.
We didn't need to.
I used to think ,
some love doesn't need to be confessed.
But then doubt crept in.
What if he doesn't feel the same?
What if I'm just a comfort to him?
What if I'm imagining everything?
That night, my fingers trembled over my phone.
And before fear could stop me...
I typed:
"Will you be my BF?"
I sent it.
Seconds passed.
Minutes passed.
Then,
Seen.
And nothing else.
My heart stopped beating.