💌 Letters I’ll Never Send

To the One Who Almost Stayed

Dear you,

You almost stayed. You almost said the words I had waited months to hear. You almost made a home out of us.

And somehow, that almost broke me more than a clean goodbye ever could.

When someone leaves, you learn how to mourn. But when someone almost stays, you learn how to wait in a loop that never ends. I kept replaying our last conversation like it might finally turn into a different version, one where you turned back. One where you decided we were worth choosing.

But you never did. And that silence? It became the loudest thing I had to carry.

You didn’t leave with cruelty. You left with hesitation. And that’s what I hated most, not the loss, but the lingering. Because I would’ve preferred a villain over a ghost. Something to blame. Something I could fight.

Instead, you became a question mark I kept trying to rewrite into a sentence that never came.

There were days I convinced myself you just needed more time. That eventually you'd come back, whisper some version of "I was wrong," and fold me into the life we could’ve had.

But the hardest truth I had to swallow was this: you knew I loved you, and still, you walked away unsure.

That’s not love. That’s indecision wearing tenderness like a disguise.

I loved you. And that love didn’t end when you didn’t stay. It ended when I realized I couldn’t keep waiting for someone who had already chosen the door.

I’ll always wonder if you think of me. But I won’t wait for you to.

— Fae