She Wanted Me in Private, But Never in Public

I should’ve peeped the signs way earlier, but when you’re caught up, everything feels a lil blurry.

She never posted me. Never said my name around her friends. Never acknowledged me in public like that. But when the world went quiet and everyone else went ghost, that’s when I existed to her.

2 a.m. texts. “Can you talk?” voice notes. Deep convos that stretched into the sunrise. She said I made her feel safe, that I was her “escape.” I was the only person she could be real with. And I believed her.

Because it felt real on my end too.

We weren’t dating, but the connection was loud. It wasn’t surface-level. We knew each other’s pasts, our traumas, our dreams, all that. She’d send me TikToks that reminded her of me. Call me when she was spiraling. Say “you just get me” like it meant something. I ain’t even gonna lie — part of me thought maybe we were building toward something real. Slowly. Naturally.

But the more I gave, the more distant she got.

She started acting off. Less replies. Dry convos. She was laughing with other people, posting up like she didn’t have a whole emotional connection with me behind closed doors. It started to feel one-sided — like I was holding onto a thread she already let go of.

Then the switch-up hit hard.

I’m scrolling through IG and boom — she’s posted up with some dude. All close. Smiling. “My person 💕” in the caption. It felt like getting punched in the chest. Like… damn. I didn’t even know she was talking to anyone.

I stayed quiet at first. I didn’t wanna be “that guy.” But it was eating me alive. So I finally asked her what was up.

She said:

“You’re still my best friend. I just needed something different.”

That’s when it hit me.

I was never in the picture. I was behind the scenes. A hidden chapter in her story while she lived a whole different life out loud.

It didn’t stop there either. A few days later, I found out she was talking wild about me. Told people I was “obsessed.” Said I “couldn’t take a hint.” Like I was some random dude thirsting over her, when really, I was the one she called when life got too loud.

I was the late-night therapist. The backup vibe. The placeholder until someone else showed up.

I should’ve been mad. But I was more disappointed — in her, but also in myself. For ignoring the red flags. For letting myself get attached to someone who only saw me as an option.

So I fell back. No dramatic goodbye. No sad playlist. Just silence.

She noticed. Of course she did. Started watching my stories like clockwork. Liked old posts. Sent the occasional “hey” text like nothing ever happened. Like I was just supposed to come back when she missed the attention.

But I was done playing that role. I didn’t want to be someone’s secret anymore. I didn’t want love that only existed in DMs and private calls. I wanted something real — loud, proud, and out in the open.

I learned something through all this:

Just because someone leans on you doesn’t mean they love you.

And just because you feel close to someone doesn’t mean they see you the same.

I wasn’t her safe space. I was her emotional crutch. The one she leaned on when she was tired, but tossed aside when it was time to show up in real life.

She wanted me in private.

Now she can miss me in public.

I’m not somebody’s secret.

I’m not the “almost.”

I’m him.

And I deserve to be loved like it’s daylight — not just when it’s convenient, not just when no one’s watching.