The room was quiet again.
But this time… it didn't feel empty.
I sat on the floor, my head resting against the wall, my breathing slowly calming after everything I had just let out.
He was still beside me.
Still silent.
Still… there.
"Why didn't you leave?" I asked softly, my voice tired.
He looked at me, then away.
"Because I know what happens when people leave at moments like this."
Something about his tone felt… personal.
"You said… you understand," I whispered.
"What did you mean?"
For a moment, he didn't answer.
I thought he wouldn't.
But then—
"I lost someone too."
My heart stilled.
"Who?" I asked carefully.
He hesitated… like the word itself carried weight.
"My little sister."
I froze.
"I was supposed to protect her," he continued, his voice low and distant.
"But I wasn't there… when she needed me."
The way he said it…
It wasn't just sadness.
It was guilt.
"What happened?" I asked, barely breathing.
He let out a quiet, shaky breath.
"She was sick. Not serious at first… or at least that's what everyone thought."
He paused.
"I kept telling myself I'd spend more time with her later… that I had time."
My chest tightened.
"But 'later' never came."
Silence filled the room.
Heavy. Painful.
"I wasn't there when she asked for me," he said, his voice breaking just a little.
"And the last thing she told my mom was… she was waiting for me."
I felt something shatter inside me.
Because I understood that kind of regret.
That kind of pain that never really leaves.
"I'm sorry…" I whispered.
He shook his head.
"Don't be. Some things… you don't get to fix."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Two broken people… sitting in the same silence.
"You stayed," I said after a while, looking at him.
"Even though it hurts you too."
He gave a faint, almost invisible smile.
"Maybe… I didn't want you to feel what I felt."
My heart ached.
Not just for me…
But for him.
Slowly, without thinking, I moved closer.
Not too much.
Just enough.
And for the first time… it didn't feel wrong.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
He didn't reply.
But he didn't move away either.
And somewhere between shared pain and quiet understanding…
I realized something terrifying.
I was starting to depend on him.
Because when everything inside me was falling apart…
He was the only thing that felt… steady.