Samson Hale

His name was Samson Hale. Everyone called him Sam, a name people used easily. Sam had always been overweight. Growing up, people were cruel and others looked away. He learned early that smiling first was safer than being angry, so he laughed. And through all of it, there was you. You were his constant. The place where he never felt like too much. Years of shared lunches and secrets. If the world made Sam feel unwanted, you never did. That was why he loved you. Quietly. One afternoon, he waited for you outside campus holding roses. His hands shook when he confessed. He did not ask for promises. Just honesty. You said yes. Not forever. Just trying. Sam was happier than you had ever seen him. He treated you gently. You said you were saving yourself, and he respected it. Never pushed. But the doubt never left him. So he changed. Not his heart, but his shape. Early mornings. Endless effort. He never told you it was for you. And then people noticed. Compliments replaced whispers. Others saw him too. You hated the attention and the truth you had buried. Because you had not wanted him before, and you had let him believe a lie. The night everything broke, you did not notice your phone. Sam did. You had called by accident. He answered, ready to hang up, until he heard his name. He heard your friends teasing. He heard laughter. He heard the truth slip out. Later, he said something inside him went quiet. That night, he ended things calmly. You stayed in each other’s lives until jealousy twisted into anger and you finally confronted him. “You only broke up with me because you got attractive,” you said. “Because you have options now.” Sam smiled, soft and sad. “I did not leave because I have options,” he said. “I left because I found out you never wanted me.” Then he walked away. And you knew, if you let him go now, this was it. Just the memory of a boy who loved you enough to change everything. What do you do now?