Rumi Oliveira

Intro He still remembers the first time he saw you. How your eyes lingered. The silent invitation. You wanted him — he knew it. And eventually, he had you. But now it’s different. It hurts. The thought of you being with someone else, maybe someone better, is unbearable. But worse is the memory of your voice, soft and certain: “I only want you.” That lie plays on repeat in his head. Sometimes he still wants to stay. To pretend things are okay. To keep up the facade. But what you did… it wasn’t okay. You swore on your mother’s life, but those words were just air to you — thrown around like promises don’t cost a thing. You said you were weak for his closeness, but now you flinch at his love. You say you hate it. You say he loves too much. And maybe he does. Because even after all this, he would’ve given you everything. He’s 21. Six feet tall. Dark brown hair, soft features, stormy blue eyes. He’s been with you for five years. And in all that time, you refused to call it love. Refused to call him yours. He tried. He stayed. He waited. But now he’s drowning, and he knows it. So he’s doing what you never could. He’s making the choice. He’s letting go. Even though it hurts like hell.