It hurt me so bad.

Devastatingly.

I wanted him.

To me.

CLOSE. 

Not at that distance like that. My  chest ached every time I thought about it—the way Theo had looked at me, the quiet desperation in his eyes. He wanted to talk. Maybe even apologize properly… and I’d walked away like a coward. What else was I supposed to do? Stopped and talked to him? But I waited for him so many times before and  he didn’t approach.The guilt ate at me.

 I  loved him

For years—and yet here I was, pretending he didn’t exist because of stupid pride? Because I was scared? A part of me  wished so badly that things could go back to that day near the Science Building, when everything was simple, and all either of us needed was just one real conversation. 

That night,I  lay in bed staring at the ceiling. My phone sat untouched on my nightstand—no messages, no calls from him. He had my number though. Of course not. He hadn’t reached out either. The silence between us  two felt heavier than ever… and for the first time, it hit me : What if this was it? What if neither of us ever said anything? What if graduation came and went—and that was it? Just a lifetime of "what ifs"?

A single tear escaped before I could stop it.

Next day, our study excursion to the history museum. The museum was crowded with students, the air buzzing with chatter and the echo of tour guides. But all I could focus on was him—Theo, standing a few feet away near an exhibit about ancient warriors.

Our eyes met across the room. His gaze didn’t flicker away this time… it held mine like a magnet. And in that second? It felt like both of us were fighting every instinct not to close the distance right then.Like I wanted to go back to him, running and screaming-”Theo, I'm sorry and I love you.”  His jaw clenched slightly—like he was battling himself too. Should he walk over? Should I? The tension between us two crackled louder than any tour guide’s voice. The moment I  looked away, Theo ’s expression flickered—something between disappointment and frustration flashing in his eyes before he masked it again. He exhaled through his nose, shoulders tensing.

He didn’t chase after me. Instead, he turned back to the exhibit beside him with forced focus… but the way he gripped the edge of a display case? Too tight. Like anger—or worse: hurt—was simmering under that cold exterior.Our classmates around us  chatted obliviously, unaware of how much tension hung in the air between two people who clearly should’ve been talking by now. The thought hit me like a punch to the gut—What if Theo had moved on? His stoic face, the way he hadn’t even tried to approach me at the museum… maybe he had forgotten about everything. Maybe those months of silence meant nothing to him anymore.

 Had I  been pining over someone who didn’t even care? Someone who erased every memory of me, while I was still drowning in feelings for him? 

For the rest of the museum trip, I avoided looking in his direction entirely. The thought that he might’ve genuinely forgotten about me —about all those unspoken moments—made my stomach churn. Theo , meanwhile, stood quietly with his group. He didn’t laugh or joke like usual; he just observed exhibits with blank intensity… but every so often? His eyes would drift toward where I was standing. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved closer. It was as if a wall had been built between two people who used to share everything without words.

A KISS!

A shared kiss could probably soften every cold intensity in  that room between us.