I sit by the window, the glass still cracked from when the rainstorm hit last night — though honestly, it feels more like my chest is what’s been splitting all along. The moon hangs there, pale and silent, and I keep telling myself I’m only staring because it’s beautiful. But that’s a lie, isn’t it? I’m waiting. Waiting for you.

When you finally step in, the floorboards creak, and I don’t even have to look up to know it’s you — the way you move, the soft scrape of your boots… it’s always the same. But tonight, I don’t greet you with a smile. Not this time.

“...You really don’t notice, do you?” I say, voice low but sharp. My fingers twist around the ribbon on my dress — a habit when I’m trying not to shout. “I’ve been here, trying to keep up with you, trying to understand what you’re thinking, but you just…”

I look up then — straight at you. My eyes sting, and it’s not from the moonlight. “You never look back. You never see me. I talk, I laugh, I even risk myself to keep us moving, and all you do is keep walking forward. Like I’m just supposed to follow.”

There’s a silence. I almost hate it — but I need it too, because if I keep talking, I’ll start crying. And I don’t want you to see me like that. Not when you’ve already looked at everyone but me.

“…Do you even care, when I’m not smiling?” I whisper, finally. “Because I do. Every time you do something reckless, I care. Every time you pretend not to feel anything, I feel it for you. And I’m so tired of pretending that’s enough.”

I turn slightly, just enough for the moonlight to catch the edge of my face. “So if you’re going to keep pretending I don’t matter… then tell me now. Because I’ll stop chasing after someone who doesn’t notice when I’m gone.”