I was still debating whether or not to tell him. I was really good at hiding my problems, trust me. I had spent so long building walls around myself that it almost felt normal to keep everything buried.
But when I looked into his eyes, something shifted.
There was love there—but not the kind that demanded anything from me. Not the kind that pressured or rushed or took without asking. It was softer than that. Patient. Quiet. Real.
The kind of love that doesn't chase answers, but waits for you to find your own voice.
And somehow, that was more dangerous than anything else.
Because it made me want to speak.
My chest felt tight, like I was holding my breath without realizing it. My thoughts kept arguing with each other—don't say it, keep it in, it's safer that way—but none of them were loud enough to overpower what I felt when I looked at him.
Seen.
That was the word.
I felt seen in a way I wasn't used to.
My heart skipped, just once, like it had made a decision before I did.
And before I could talk myself out of it, I realized something simple but terrifying:
He was going to be the first person I told.
"I lost my virginity at 16" I swallowed hard, I had finally let it out. He didn't look shocked, instead he held me tight. "Was it by force like rape? He asked. "No it wasn't, I did it willingly ",
I started knotting my fingers, I usually did that when I was nervous. "It was a guy in secondary school he said he liked me and he wanted to date me and then I agreed because I felt It was real love I didn't know he was just trying to get into my pants" I said hastily out if nervousness
He nudged me to go on. And then I slowed down because this was the part that hurt the most. " And when he finally got the chance, he didn't hold back. We had sex and it was the most painful I had ever felt in my life" i felt a knot forming in my throat.
"He kept going even when I cried for him to stop, told him he was hurting me. He didn't. Instead he kept going further and further. God, it was so painful. I couldn't help but cry, the way he didn't even want to hear me and and... " I couldn't help it, I had to let the tears out or else it'd choke me.
He held me so close and whispered, "It's okay."
And for a moment, I actually believed him.
Not because everything was suddenly fine, but because his voice didn't demand anything from me. It didn't judge me. It didn't rush me to stop feeling what I was feeling. It just… stayed.
My breathing was still uneven, my chest heavy like I had been carrying too much for too long, but being in his arms made it feel a little less sharp.
Then he pulled back just slightly, enough for me to see his face.
"But let me tell you something," he said.
I looked up at him slowly, my eyes still wet, still tired from everything I had just let out.
His gaze didn't waver.
"Never cry for any guy," he said quietly. "He's not worth your tears… neither am I, nor any other guy."
That hit me in a strange way.
Not like rejection—but like a boundary being set where I didn't even know I needed one.
My emotions didn't disappear. I was still hurting, still fragile, still trying to understand what I had just opened up. But something about his words made my chest loosen a little.
Like I wasn't supposed to give pieces of myself away so easily anymore.
I leaned into him again without thinking.
And for the first time in a while, I felt something I hadn't felt in so long I almost didn't recognize it.
Comfort.
Not perfect. Not complete.
But enough to make the silence between us feel safe instead of empty.
And then I remembered this part: "Never cry for any guy, not even me."
And then it dawned on me—he knew he wasn't going to stay. The thought hit me quietly at first, then harder, like something sinking in my chest. My heart broke a little, not loudly, just in that quiet way where you suddenly feel something slipping away before you even had it.
I looked up at him. He looked too perfect in that moment—too calm, too steady, like someone who already understood endings I hadn't even thought about yet. And somehow, that made me feel small beside him.
And then I made up my mind. I'd make the most of my time with him. I wouldn't overthink it, I wouldn't question it. I'd just hold on to whatever this was while I still could, even if I didn't fully understand it.
But even then, my thoughts betrayed me.
Maybe I was the reason he might not stay. Maybe it was me—my flaws, my fears, everything I wasn't sure how to fix.
I didn't know yet… it was the other way round.