Chapter 4: Cracks Beneath the Surface

She treated him like forever. He treated her like a phase.

Somewhere along the way, she stopped loving him like a boyfriend.

She began to love him like a husband.

Not just in words, but in actions. In the quiet things no one saw — folding his clothes, making sure his favourite food was there, being the calm when his world was loud. She didn’t do it to impress. She did it because her love was real. Because when she gave her heart, she didn’t hold anything back.

She was already building a life around him in her mind. And she behaved like a wife without ever needing the title.

But love — at least the kind that is one-sided — is a dangerous thing.

One evening, it all came crashing down.

No warning. No explanation she could make peace with.

Just a message — or a voice, or maybe a silence louder than both — that said more than enough:

“Even if you were the last girl on this planet, I wouldn’t come back. My ego won’t allow it.”

That sentence didn’t just hurt. It shattered something sacred.

Because she had never disrespected him. Never betrayed him. All she had done was love too much — and perhaps expect that love would mean something in return.

He had told her they wouldn't block each other.

And that one decision became her prison.

Because while he went on with his life — possibly free, possibly with someone new — she kept checking her phone. Hoping. Waiting. Convincing herself that any moment now, he would realise what they had and say:

“It’s okay. Whatever happened, happened. Let’s start over. This time, forever.”

But the message never came.

Days turned to nights, nights to weeks. And her hope, once bright like fire, began to flicker into a quiet ache — still alive, but barely.

She questioned everything.

Was she too much? Too emotional? Too devoted? Why was loyalty not enough? Why did treating someone like they’re your entire world leave you feeling like nothing in theirs?

And still — she didn’t block him.

Because blocking would mean closure. And she wasn’t ready for that. Because a part of her still believed in second chances. In redemption. In him.

But deep down, another part of her — quieter, wiser, broken — whispered a darker truth:

“If he truly wanted you, you wouldn’t be here waiting.”

And yet, she waited.

Not because she was weak. But because she loved deeply. Because she believed love, real love, fights back. Finds a way. Comes home.

But maybe some people never intended to stay — they only came to watch you break.