Part 2:

He showed up when she was no longer searching. And still, she found herself remembering. Every moment. Every plan. Every dream. The way he made her feel safe, like she mattered, like she was seen, really seen. As if her soul was finally acknowledged by the universe. He made her feel like the world belonged in her palms.

And yet… the same hands that held her so gently once had also let her fall. Could someone truly make her feel that good, and still be the reason for her torment?

A whisper, cold and mocking, slithered into her thoughts like a devil:

"The same one you told what hurts you… did them so perfectly. He gave you a rose. You gave him your garden. Tell me how it went."

No words. Just silence. Painful, hollow silence.

“Why?” she whispered. It was all she had. Why it all happened. Why he came back. Why she always let him.

Even now, she couldn’t yell at him, though she rehearsed it a thousand times.

"Stay away from me. Don’t come close. Don’t touch me. You’re just using me."

But the words never came out. Every time he was near, her walls crumbled. Her spine softened. She became that version of herself she promised she’d never return to. The one who smiled back. The one who leaned into his touch, even though it burned.

She hated herself for it. For craving him. For drowning in his presence, his laughter, his voice.

But what disturbed her the most, he always left. Like smoke, he’d vanish just when she thought she could breathe again. He disappeared into the spaces between her fingers, leaving only his memory behind. She’d be left questioning everything, why he ever came back, why she ever met him, why she’d read that letter, why she smiled the first time she heard him laugh, when she went knocking on his door.

Why she kissed him.

Why she loved him.

Why she built a castle around him.

Why she gave him everything.

Why she allowed him to be her first.

Her first touch. Her first skin trail. Her first neck kiss. The first one to ever make her feel love and ecstasy at once.

And now, she couldn’t stop craving him. He left her at his mercy, and yet… she wanted more. Every time he returned, he found a new way to unravel her.

So she sat, head in her palms, the weight of her heart dragging her down.

“If you don’t love me… please, don’t make me feel like you do,” she whispered to the silence, “I’m not a bowl for the spit.”

Her voice cracked. The truth was raw.

“Yes, I loved you. Yes, I still do. And it’s taking me everything to get rid of that emotion. But every time we meet, every time you hold me, every time we kiss, you make me start over. From scratch.”

She wiped her eyes, not in weakness but in defiance.

“If you don’t mean it… don’t show me affection. I believe the biggest coward is the one who awakens the heart of a lady with no intention of truly loving her.”

And with that, she let the silence settle again, this time not as a curse, but as her companion.