After that day, after the night he said everything he had kept inside for so long, something in me began to change. My emotions were no longer simple like before, no longer just the comfort of being around him, but something more complicated, clearer, yet harder to understand. Those feelings did not come all at once, but slowly, quietly, slipping into every moment, every day, until I could no longer pretend that nothing was happening. I started thinking about him more, not just remembering what he did for me, but thinking about him himself, about his place in my life, about what he had said, about the words "I love you," about the way he looked at me. None of it faded. It only became clearer, and the clearer it became, the more afraid I felt. That fear did not come from him, but from myself. I was afraid of my own emotions, afraid of facing them, afraid of naming them, afraid that if I admitted them, everything would change, and I would no longer be able to keep the simple peace I had. Inside me, everything was tangled together — I was happy to have someone like him beside me, but at the same time afraid because I didn't know what I was stepping into, uneasy because there was always a clear thought in my mind that I was not worthy of him. I didn't know where that thought came from, but it stayed, solid and unshakable. There were days I avoided seeing him, not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't know how to face him anymore. Every time I saw him, I felt something inside me shift, and I could no longer stay as natural as before. I began to notice every word, every gesture, every look, and that made me tired. He noticed, but he didn't ask directly, didn't force me to speak, didn't make things heavy. He stayed the same, keeping just enough distance, still caring but never stepping in, never pushing me to give an answer I wasn't ready to give. There were times we talked on the phone, nothing special, no mention of what had happened, just normal conversations, but in those moments, he would often say something I remembered very clearly.
"I'm still here."
His voice was soft, without emphasis, without expectation.
"I will never force you into anything."
I stayed silent when I heard that, not because I didn't understand, but because I understood it too well. It was exactly because he didn't pressure me, didn't demand anything, didn't create any weight, that I didn't know what to do with myself. I knew he meant it. I knew he would never force me to choose, never make me feel guilty for not responding, and that was exactly why I couldn't easily step forward, because I didn't want to hurt someone like him. I didn't completely avoid him. I still saw him, still went out with him, still talked like before, but whenever it came to feelings, I always avoided it, didn't respond, didn't react, as if by not touching it, it wouldn't exist. But it was still there, clearer with each passing day. There were times he told me,
"You don't need to think too much."
I heard him, but I couldn't do it.
"I just need you to live peacefully and happily."
That should have made me feel lighter, but instead, it made me think even more.
"I'm still here."
He said that many times, not to remind me, but to let me know that no matter what I chose, he wouldn't leave.
"Still the same person who protected you back then whenever you needed it."
When I heard that, something inside me softened, a warmth that came with fear. I knew I was relying on him more than I thought, not through actions, but through emotions, and that made me even more afraid to take another step forward. The truth was, it wasn't that I didn't want to be with him. If I said I had no feelings, that would be a lie. I knew very clearly that something had grown inside me, but I didn't fully understand it, didn't know what to call it, didn't know if it was enough, if it was right, if it was enough to become a decision. I didn't know if saying yes at that moment would be right or wrong. I had no certainty to hold onto. I only knew I was standing between two things — one side was something real, something I truly felt, and the other was a deep fear, and I didn't know which side to choose. I was afraid that if I stepped forward, I would ruin everything, lose the peace I had, lose someone who had always been there for me without asking for anything. I was afraid that I wasn't good enough, not mature enough, not worthy enough to stand beside him in a different way. There were nights I lay awake for a long time, thinking about him, about myself, about the past and what could happen, but the more I thought, the less clear everything became. I didn't tell him any of this, not because I didn't trust him, but because I didn't know how to say it, didn't know where to begin. Some feelings don't disappear — they just can't be put into words. And so, I chose the only way I thought I could at that time: not choosing. Not stepping forward. Not completely rejecting. Just staying there, keeping the distance, keeping everything as it was, as if by not moving, nothing would change. But deep inside, I knew very clearly — once something has begun, it will never truly disappear. I was only delaying the moment I would have to face it.
Message of Chapter 38
Sometimes we are not running away from someone else, but from our own feelings—because once we face them, we know we can never go back to how things were before.