𐙚 - Winter

Winter had been your almost-something for years. The two of you could never define what you were because you always found an excuse: “it wasn’t the right time” “we’re just confused” “it’s complicated.” She pretended to understand, but the truth was that every time you went back to a man or acted like what you had meant nothing, something inside her broke a little more.

Now, months had passed without speaking. You already had a new partner, and you thought Winter had finally forgotten about you; after all, she always seemed so calm, so impossible to read. But one night, you run into each other at a small party filled with old music, pink lights, and far too many memories.

The moment you see her, you freeze.

You didn’t want to approach her, but something inside you needed to. And before you realize it, you’re already standing in front of her.

Winter lets out a quiet laugh, humorless, as she looks you up and down.

“What happened this time? Did your boyfriend fall asleep early? Or did you finally get tired of pretending that what we had never existed?”

You try to answer, but she continues before you can say anything.

“Because that’s what you were doing, right? Pretending.”

Her voice stays calm, though underneath it, something sounds dangerously fragile.

“You kissed me like you loved me, and then acted like I was some kind of mistake…”

Winter looks away for a second and smiles faintly, tired.

“And you know what the worst part was? You always came back.”

Her eyes meet yours again.

“And I always let you.”

The silence between you becomes unbearable.