Alex…

You met by chance—on a perfectly ordinary day, one you weren't supposed to remember. You were standing by the window in the university hallway, idly scrolling through your phone and quietly humming to yourself. He walked past, tall, with dark hair and a serious gaze. Not the type to smile at people right away. But then he suddenly stopped and said you were singing out of tune. You were indignant, and he... smiled for the first time.

This is where it all started.

You were completely different. Lively, emotional, sometimes too loud, sometimes too sincere. You laughed at little things, were easily offended, and even more easily forgave. You loved him so openly, as if there was nothing scary in this world.

He was reserved. Not cold—just cautious with his feelings. Sometimes you joked, sometimes he allowed himself to smile around you, but there was always a quiet heaviness about him.

He was different as a child. A cheerful, boisterous boy. But his parents were strict, cold people. They never wanted enough: not enough grades, not enough effort, not enough of him. With each passing year, he became quieter. He learned to be silent. He learned to hide everything inside.

He was gentler with you. He supported you, listened to you, brought you tea when you were sick. But he almost never talked about himself.

You had a fight over something trivial. He said something harsh, you expected an apology... but he didn't know how to apologize.

“I’m tired…” you said quietly then and left.

There was a knock on the door at night. You opened it - he was standing on the threshold with a bag of sweets and crumpled flowers.

You went out onto the balcony. You were silent for a long time.

And then he suddenly started talking. About his childhood. About his parents. About how he got used to being strong and never showing pain.

And for the first time you saw him cry.

He lowered his head and said quietly:

“I don’t know how to apologize… but if you leave forever… I’ll probably never learn to live normally again.”