(Flashback — before the breakup)
It started small.
A message sent… and no reply for hours.
Then finally:
"Busy?" I texted.
"Yeah," he replied.
Just that. Dry. Short. Unemotional.
I stared at my phone for a long time.
I could feel the distance growing—even through these tiny messages.
Days went by like this.
I kept sending texts. Little things. Checking in. Joking. Sharing thoughts.
And every time…
His reply was short. Dry. Polite. But cold.
"Ok."
"Got it."
"Sure."
I didn't call him.
I didn't want to push.
I just… waited. Patiently.
Let him come to me if he wanted.
Because I loved him.
And someone who loves…
Sometimes waits quietly.
I spent hours lost in my own thoughts instead.
Wondering. Imagining.
What if he's frustrated?
What if he's angry with me?
Or… what if he's thinking about his mom?
Yes. That was it.
I knew deep down.
His mother wouldn't approve. She never would.
And now… he was trying to figure out how to keep his family and the girl he loved at the same time.
I sent one message after another, soft, patient, giving him space…
"How was your day?"
"Did you eat?"
"I saw something today and thought of you."
And his replies—short. Polite. Empty of feeling.
"Hmm."
"Ok."
"Thanks."
I felt my chest tighten.
But I didn't push.
I didn't call.
Because I loved him enough to let him breathe… even if it hurt me.
I kept thinking.
Maybe if I let him go slowly…
If I stayed patient…
He would come back.
One night, I stared at my phone for the hundredth time.
I knew he wasn't ignoring me because he didn't care.
I knew he was stressed.
Stressed because he couldn't see a future with me.
Because nobody would convert.
Because he couldn't go against his family.
And yet…
I stayed.
I stayed in the quiet spaces between his dry texts.
I stayed in my thoughts.
I stayed in my love for him.
That's what love sometimes is.
Not the grand gestures.
Not the happy words.
Sometimes…
It's just quietly, patiently waiting.
Even when you feel like you're slipping away.
And that patience…
It would eventually lead to the night we finally met to talk.
The night that would change everything.