One-sided Love

The rain fell softly that night, a whisper against the windows, as I sat alone in my darkened room. The shadows stretched long across the floor, and I could feel the weight of memories pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I hadn’t meant to fall in love with him. It wasn’t supposed to happen—not like this, not with him. He was fire and certainty, a storm of conviction that swept through my carefully constructed walls and left them in ruins. I was nothing more than a boy with too many dreams and a heart too soft for its own good.

He was sunlight—golden, untouchable. The kind of beautiful that made people stop and stare. The world adored him, but he never seemed to notice. He moved through life as if it owed him nothing and he owed it less, his laughter like music that never quite belonged to anyone.

And me? I was his shadow. Always just a step behind, always lingering where he couldn’t see.

The first time I told him, I was seventeen. We were standing on the hill behind our school, the grass wet with morning dew. The sky was endless, and I felt like I might drown in it if I didn’t speak. My heart hammered so loudly I could barely hear my own voice.

“I love you,” I whispered, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

He blinked, surprised. And then he laughed.

“You’re joking, right?”

I wasn’t.

His smile faded when he realized the truth, and I watched as the boy I had loved my whole life pulled away from me—physically, emotionally, in every way that mattered.

“I can’t,” he said. “I don’t feel that way about you.”

It should have ended there. I should have walked away with my pride intact, but I didn’t. Love makes fools of us all, and I was no exception. I clung to the hope that someday he would see me, that he would choose me.

But he never did.

I watched him fall for someone else—watched the way his eyes lit up when he spoke her name, the way his hand fit perfectly in hers. It hurt more than I thought anything ever could, a sharp, relentless ache that hollowed me out from the inside.

I stayed close, pretending it didn’t matter. I smiled through the pain, told myself that friendship was enough. But it wasn’t. It never was.

Then came the night I couldn’t pretend anymore.

It was his birthday, and the whole city seemed to hum with life as we stood together on his balcony. The air was thick with the scent of rain, and the lights of the city sparkled like stars fallen to earth.

He turned to me, his eyes soft with the warmth of too many drinks, and for a fleeting moment, I saw something there—something that looked like longing.

But it wasn’t for me. It never had been.

“You’ve always been there for me,” he said, his voice quiet. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

My heart clenched painfully.

“You’d be fine,” I replied, the words bitter on my tongue.

He laughed softly, oblivious. “No, I wouldn’t.”

I wanted to scream. To tell him that love isn’t a safety net, that I wasn’t just a constant to fall back on when the world grew too heavy.

Instead, I said nothing.

When he kissed her later that night, I finally broke.

I left without a word, the rain soaking through my clothes as I walked home. I felt numb, as if I had finally used up all the pain my heart could hold.

I didn’t speak to him for weeks. He noticed, of course—he always noticed when I pulled away—but he never asked why. He just watched me with those same beautiful eyes, confusion clouding the warmth that had once been my undoing.

When he finally confronted me, it was too late.

“You’ve been different,” he said, his brows furrowed with worry. “What’s going on?”

I looked at him, my heart a tangled mess of love and regret.

“I’m tired,” I whispered.

“Tired of what?”

“Tired of loving you.”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked as if I had hit him.

“I didn’t ask you to,” he said, his voice low, almost a plea.

“I know.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.

He reached for my hand, but I pulled away.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said, my voice breaking. “I can’t keep giving you pieces of myself when you’ll never give me anything in return.”

He looked at me like he wanted to say something, but the words never came.

And so I walked away.

This time, I didn’t look back.