I saw you again the other night. And I don’t know what hit me harder — the fact that you were there… or the fact that you weren’t mine.

You looked calm. Softer somehow. Like someone who finally stopped begging to be understood and decided to just be loved instead. I used to think I had time. That somehow, somewhere, you’d always be within reach. I was wrong.

I thought I was doing the right thing when I pulled away. When I tried to "fix" myself first. But in the process, I broke the one thing that was real — you. You were spontaneous. Loud without apology. Emotional, but so, so sincere. And I made you feel like that was too much. When really, it was everything I needed.

The truth is — I still catch myself looking for pieces of you in people I meet. The way you used to laugh with your whole body. The way your voice softened when you were tired. The way you said my name like it was still worth saving.

But no one is you. And the worst part is, I don’t deserve another chance to say that to your face.

So, this is where I let go.

I’m not writing to win you back. I know I lost that right a long time ago. I’m writing because if you ever wonder — if you ever ask yourself whether you mattered, whether I really loved you, whether it broke me to watch you choose someone else —

The answer is yes. To all of it.

You were never just a chapter. You were the whole goddamn book I didn’t know how to read until it was out of print.

And if he treats you right — if he holds your hand like he’s holding a second chance — then maybe I can live with being the warning before the right one came.

Goodbye, my favourite almost. —Haziq