Tell me how to love you

Mark stepped through the front door, the cool night air clinging to his skin as he entered his apartment. His shoes clicked against the hardwood floor, the sound sharp and hollow in the quiet of the space. He paused, taking a deep breath, letting the stillness of his apartment wash over him. The world outside seemed to be holding its breath, suspended in the soft hum of the city night. But here, in his apartment, the silence felt different—oppressive, as though it was pressing in from all sides.

The date had gone well. Better than he had expected. There had been something effortless about it, the way Emma's laughter filled the space between them, the way their conversation flowed so naturally. Her smile had been genuine, warm, and it had made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he could let his guard down. She wasn't like the others. She made him feel seen, heard. For a brief moment, he had even dared to believe in the possibility of something real.

But now, as he stood in the doorway, that warmth from the night seemed to vanish. The air in the apartment was heavy, thick with the weight of his own thoughts. The fear that he had worked so hard to suppress during the date now crept in, slithering through his mind like a dark cloud. What if he screwed it up? What if he couldn't be the man Emma deserved?

He dropped his keys onto the counter, the sound of metal on wood jarring in the quiet room. Mark ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts spiraling, turning over each moment of the evening. He could still feel the warmth of Emma's hand as they had sat close to each other at dinner, her laughter still echoing in his mind, soft and melodic. For a moment, it had felt effortless, easy—a connection he hadn't experienced in years. But the closer he had gotten to her, the more the ghosts of his past had resurfaced, reminding him of the ways he had failed before. He couldn't escape them, no matter how hard he tried.

Mark walked into the kitchen, staring at the empty countertop as if willing the thoughts to quiet down. His phone buzzed on the counter, and he glanced at it. There was a message from Emma.

"Thanks for tonight. I had a great time 😊Hope we can do it again soon."

He stared at the message, his heart tightening. She had a great time. She wanted to see him again. It was simple, uncomplicated, but it felt like a lifeline thrown in his direction. And yet, the words sent a wave of unease through him. What was he supposed to do with this? How was he supposed to respond when he was so tangled up in his own fear?

What if he wasn't enough for her? What if, despite everything, he would end up hurting her like he had done before? Every time he let someone get close, it seemed like it all fell apart. He wasn't sure he could bear the weight of another failed relationship, another heartbroken person blaming him for their pain.

The fear that had haunted him for so long began to tighten around his chest. He could almost hear the voices of his exes in his mind, their words still sharp, still cutting. You never really cared. "You always run when things get real. I gave you everything, and it still wasn't enough."

He slammed his fist onto the counter, frustration boiling over. He was tired of this. Tired of running, tired of feeling like a failure. Why was he so scared? Emma had been kind, patient, and understanding. She deserved better than this fear that he couldn't shake.

He sighed, reaching for his phone to respond to her message. But before he could type anything, exhaustion hit him like a wave. It had been a long day, and the emotional toll of everything weighing on him was too much. He put the phone down and decided to go to bed. Maybe sleep would help. Maybe it would give him the distance he needed to think things through.

But sleep didn't come easily.

---

----

-----

------

-------

Later that night, Mark woke with a jolt, his heart pounding in his chest. His body was drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around his limbs. The darkness in the room seemed to press in on him, suffocating him as he gasped for breath. The nightmare was back.

The dream had come again, that recurring nightmare that always seemed to find him when he was on the verge of something good. It started like it always did—with a face. A woman from his past. At first, he could never quite place her, but the more the dream unfolded, the more real she became. She was angry, her eyes filled with accusations, her voice a shrill sound in his ears.

"You never really cared," she said, her words cutting through him like a blade. "You always run when things get real."

It wasn't just one woman, though. It was all of them—his exes, the women he had once loved, or at least thought he had. Their faces blurred together, all of them accusing him of the same thing: abandoning them when they needed him the most. He could hear their voices ringing in his ears, their disappointment in him suffocating him.

And then came the guilt—the overwhelming, suffocating guilt. He could feel their pain as though it was his own, could feel the weight of the emotional wreckage he had left behind. No matter how many times he tried to apologize, no matter how many promises he had made to himself, he kept making the same mistakes. It was as though he was doomed to repeat it forever.

He jolted awake again, his breath ragged, his chest tight as if the air had been knocked out of him. The remnants of the nightmare lingered, the faces of his exes still etched in his mind. Mark sat up in bed, running a hand over his face, trying to shake off the feeling. It wasn't real. It was just a dream. But it felt too real, too painful, as though his past was clawing at him from the inside.

The room was dark, silent, and still. But the weight of the nightmare hung over him, a shadow that wouldn't lift. He could hear the echoes of those words—the words of his exes—repeating in his mind. "You never really cared. You couldn't stay."

Mark closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing, to bring himself back to the present. Emma's smile, her laughter, the warmth of their date, all of it seemed distant now, overshadowed by the relentless cycle of his fears.

He stood up from the bed, walking slowly over to the window, staring out at the dark city below. The streets were quiet, the lights distant, almost as if he was looking at a world that didn't belong to him. For a moment, he wondered if it ever would.

He rubbed his face, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him, and tried to remind himself that the past was just that—the past. But the fear, the guilt, the constant feeling of being unworthy, it was still there. It was so hard to believe that he could truly change, that someone like Emma could look at him without seeing all the mistakes he had made.

But Emma had given him something he hadn't expected—a glimpse of hope. A chance to maybe, just maybe, make things right. The thought was terrifying, and yet, for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel entirely impossible.

Maybe he wasn't doomed to repeat the same mistakes. Maybe, for once, he could be the person Emma believed he could be.

***

A/N: he can be the person that emma want him to be but emma like his the way he is so, yeah.

Save this book.

Drop a comment.

Vote this book