AFTER I LEFT

I texted him the moment I got home.

"I'm home."

My phone buzzed almost instantly.

"Ok princess, I really had a good time with you. I'm literally missing you already. Get some good sleep."

I stared at the message for a long time, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. But it didn't quite reach my chest. Not like before.

Something was changing.

The kiss we shared… the way he touched me… it all felt like something out of a movie. But the feeling that came after wasn't clarity. It was noise. Loud, swirling noise in my chest that made me question if what we had was real or if I was still clinging to a fantasy.

We still called each other at night, still texted sweet things, still made plans. But the words started feeling thinner, like pages in a book you've read too many times. The warmth was still there—but not without its cracks.

Sometimes he'd go silent in the middle of our calls, distracted, or cold when someone walked into the room. Other times he laughed less, said "I love you" in a way that sounded more like a habit than a feeling.

I tried to ignore it.

Tried to blame it on stress. On distance. On the fact that we weren't seeing each other every day.

But a small part of me—the one I kept burying—knew better.

Some days, I felt myself withdrawing too. Not because I didn't care, but because I was tired of caring alone. It felt like I was pouring my emotions into a cup with a crack I couldn't see.

And when we weren't talking, the silence in my life grew louder.

Especially at home.

I'd come back from those long calls with Damien to the chaos of a house that never quite felt like mine. Everyone would be in the living room, laughing about something, sharing stories, talking over each other. But even in the noise, I felt invisible.

My two elder brothers never seemed to notice when I walked in. And when they did, it was with passive glances or short remarks. Never warmth. Never you okay?

So I'd smile. Pretend like I was fine. Sit quietly, maybe laugh once or twice just to blend in. But I'd always end up back in my room, door shut, heart full of things no one had asked about.

Damien was the only place I thought I had left to pour it all into.

But now even that place was starting to feel... distant.

I curled up in bed, phone in hand, rereading his last text:

"Get some good sleep."

I didn't reply.

I just placed the phone on my chest, staring at the ceiling. Wondering why I felt like crying when I'd just spent time with someone who claimed to love me.

Maybe I needed more than just words. Maybe I needed someone to see me.

And if Damien couldn't, and my family wouldn't… who did I have left?