After heartbreak, I thought I had started to heal.
He came into my life gently, patiently, helping me stand when I was broken.
And naturally, attachment grew.
I found myself caring for him in ways I hadn't expected, and slowly, affection crept in.
But then I noticed her — his best friend.
At first, I dismissed it.
Best friends are supposed to exist, and everyone has them.
Right?
Yet, what I saw between them was different.
In class, they would sit together, always at the back, always close.
The way they looked at each other, the way they laughed and leaned in — it wasn't something you'd see between just friends.
Small gestures, shared jokes, subtle touches… it all seemed more than friendship.
I tried to ignore it at first.
I told myself, "It's fine. They're just friends."
But my mind couldn't stop noticing: the stolen glances, the private jokes, the ease with which they touched each other's shoulders.
Every little thing felt like a hidden signal I wasn't meant to read.
One day, curiosity got the better of me.
I asked someone casually, "What's going on between them? Are they just friends?"
The answer came calmly: "No, they're just friends."
I nodded, but inside, my chest tightened.
When he noticed my unease, he asked, "Did that bother you?"
I didn't reply. I just said, silently, "It's okay."
But deep down, it wasn't okay at all.
Then came the day when her messages appeared on his phone. The conversations weren't innocent.
They spoke in ways that even couples wouldn't always do — teasing, laughing, intimate words exchanged casually, comfortably.
Watching them, I shattered.
I tried to convince myself: "It's okay. They're just friends."
But as their bond grew more visible, my heart twisted in ways I hadn't expected.
Sometimes, he wouldn't even go out with me if she was around.
I noticed the small jealousy rising inside me, the tiny pangs I tried to hide from myself.
I told myself, "It's fine. Friendship comes first. I will stay quiet. I'll wait."
And yet… every little act of care he showed me kept pulling me closer.
The regular calls, the good morning and good night messages, the texts asking what I was doing, the spontaneous video calls, and those moments when he made me laugh —
all of it slowly, quietly, made me fall in love.
I tried to keep my feelings in check, but it was impossible.
The more I saw him with her, the more I hated that I couldn't stop loving him.
Every joke, every little gesture, every bit of attention he gave me alone felt like a lifeline.
And the truth hit me:
I was in love. Completely.
But with every smile they shared and every secret conversation I glimpsed,
I also realized something frightening: love wasn't the only thing I had to worry about.
There was care, jealousy, and an unspoken tension that could shatter everything at any moment.
And I was standing right in the middle of it —
between his friendship with her, and the love that had quietly taken hold of my heart.
When I finally admitted my feelings to my friends, they warned me.
"Don't fall for him. He's always with his best friend. He flirts. He's not serious," they said.
But my heart wouldn't listen.
I was completely, undeniably in love with him.
I decided to confront the situation myself.
I told him how I felt, ready to let go if he didn't feel the same.
But he reassured me gently: there was nothing romantic with his best friend.
He said, "If you love me, then nothing else matters. We'll figure the rest together."
That moment changed everything.
Despite all the warnings, despite the doubts, I stayed.
There was an undeniable attraction between us, a pull I couldn't resist.
And for the first time in months, I felt safe letting myself love someone completely —
even if that love was tangled in shadows, in jealousy, in invisible boundaries.
I had chosen to trust my heart,
and for the first time, it felt like my love was being returned,
even in the middle of the complicated, delicate balance of friendship and care.