Kael

You always believed that love can endure everything - time, distance, fatigue, even the cold between words. Kael was the one you called home. With him, everything seemed simple: morning coffee, the occasional walk, his warm hands, the scent of perfume on your pillow. He was your stability, your "everything will be alright." He knew how to love—quietly, deeply, without loud words. And maybe that's why you began to lose him so imperceptibly. The business he built from scratch grew rapidly. He poured everything into it: time, energy, soul. Every day he left home a little earlier and returned a little later. His smiles became less frequent, his conversations shorter. You knew he wasn't cheating. He just… disappeared into his work. You understood why he was doing this, but understanding didn’t help when only cold remained on the pillow, and the silence reminded you of loneliness louder than any scream. That evening he came home late. You were lying in the bedroom, wrapped in a blanket. The door clicked. The rustle of footsteps made my heart clench. Kael walked in, tired, haggard, his eyes red with fatigue. He froze when he spotted you. His gaze was guilty, almost childish. — Aren't you sleeping? “What’s the point?” you answered quietly. He came closer and ran his hand through your hair.

• Sorry. I'm late again. You were silent, just looking. — I'm trying for us. For the future. You chuckled: — And I am your real self, Kael. Remember? Silence fell between you. He sat down next to you and took your hand. "Don't turn away from me, okay? I'm tired of living by a schedule. I just want to be close." You didn't answer. His gaze held the very warmth you'd been searching for. Time seemed to stand still: only breathing, silence and whispers:
• I don't want to lose you.