After that conversation, nothing between him and me changed in any obvious way, but inside me, everything was shifting. I tried to keep my distance, tried to stay calm, tried to keep everything within a safe boundary, but the more I tried to hold it together, the more clearly I felt what I was avoiding. I knew I was no longer standing in the same place as before, yet I still didn't dare to take a step forward. Not long after that, I attended a gathering. It wasn't anything special, just an ordinary meetup. I had no expectations, didn't think that night would change anything. I simply showed up, sat there, listened to the conversations around me, speaking little, observing more, as I always did. At that gathering, I met a man. A stranger, nothing particularly striking at first glance. But when I looked more closely, I noticed something—his appearance somewhat resembled him. Not entirely the same, but enough to make me pause. And in that exact moment, his image appeared in my mind, vividly, unmistakably. The man started a conversation with me. It was normal, nothing outstanding, but also not uncomfortable. By the end of the night, he asked for my contact, and I gave it. Not because I felt anything, but because a different thought had formed in my mind, one that even I wasn't sure was right or wrong. I thought maybe this was the best way to move on from him, not to erase him completely, but to separate myself from those emotions. I thought about how, during the time he was abroad, when I got married, he still lived his life, still moved forward. So now, maybe I should do the same. I should let him have a normal life, build a family, be happy in the way he deserved, not be held back by someone like me. I started talking to that man. Not deeply, not frequently, just enough to form a connection. I didn't feel anything special, no clear emotions, but I continued, because I believed that if I accepted someone else, things might become easier, not just for me, but for him. I thought that if I distanced myself from him this way, he would have the chance to move on, wouldn't be stuck because of me anymore. One day, I told him. No detours, no hiding. I stood in front of him and said that I was getting to know someone else. I don't know why I chose to say it so directly, maybe because between us, there had never been anything we hid from each other. In that moment, I clearly saw the change in his eyes. He didn't react immediately, but something shifted, something deep and quiet, yet unmistakable. He took one step toward me, not rushed, not forceful, just a slow step. He asked,
"What is the real reason."
His voice was calm, steady, but direct.
"What is it that makes you unable to accept my feelings."
I looked at him, not avoiding his gaze, but inside, everything was tangled. I knew my answer wasn't simple, but I still spoke.
"You're a very good person."
I paused for a moment.
"It's just that I feel like I don't deserve you."
That wasn't something I said lightly. It was something I had thought about many times, something very real, very clear. I continued, not holding anything back.
"I want you to have a peaceful and complete life."
I looked at him.
"Not with someone like me."
The air grew still, but I kept going, as if I couldn't stop unless I said everything.
"You should try loving someone else."
My voice softened.
"And build a family."
I knew my words left no room for retreat.
"You're not young anymore."
"And you're the only son."
I looked at him, but couldn't hold his gaze for long.
"You can't live like this forever."
I took a breath, then said the final sentence.
"Between us… it's not possible."
I knew that would hurt him, but I said it anyway.
"Even if you can accept it, I can't."
He looked at me for a long time before responding. His eyes were no longer as calm as before. There was a faint redness, subtle, but I saw it. I didn't know if he was holding back or if he was truly hurt, but that moment broke something inside me. He asked again,
"Is this really the truth."
I nodded, even though deep down I knew it wasn't the whole truth, but it was the only part I could say out loud. And then I couldn't hold it anymore. Tears fell, not because I was weak, but because I had held everything in for too long. I never thought I would cry in front of him, but I couldn't stop myself. He took another step forward, said nothing, just pulled me gently into his arms. The embrace was soft, not tight, not overwhelming, just enough for me to feel that he was there. I didn't resist. I didn't push him away. I let him hold me. In that moment, I felt so fragile, so close to letting go of everything that was holding me back, so close to saying that I wanted to be with him too, that I wanted to accept his feelings, but I didn't dare. He spoke softly,
"It's clear that you have feelings for me too."
I didn't respond.
"Why won't you give me a chance."
His voice carried no blame, no pressure, just honesty.
"Why are you making yourself suffer like this."
I couldn't say anything more. Not because I didn't have answers, but because I couldn't bring myself to speak them. All I could do was stand there in his arms, feeling everything inside me, the pull to move closer, and the urge to step back at the same time. He didn't say anything else, didn't force me to respond, just held me like that, as if he understood that at this moment, words were no longer necessary.
Message of Chapter 40
Sometimes we refuse not because we don't love, but because we are afraid we are not worthy of that love—and that fear hurts more than not having it at all.