They were young, wrapped in the bliss of first love, where every shared smile feels like forever.
But even the gentlest love isn't immune to the quiet weight of unspoken things.
After the games, they met less often, yet their bond remained. He still listened as she spoke of her dreams and her thoughts, nodding quietly, smiling softly. But there were moments, small ones, where she noticed he'd pull away.
At community events, when she reached for his hand, he would shift away ever so slightly.
When her eyes searched for his across the room, his gaze would quickly look elsewhere. She understood his nature, a little reserved, gentle and never one for attention. But something inside her wished he would fight that instinct. Just once.
To show the world he wasn't afraid to be hers. She never said it aloud. Never questioned. But sometimes, love isn't hurt by betrayal. It bruises in the quiet moments of absence and of a presence that feels like it's always two steps behind.
And still, she stayed. Because what they had felt real. And her heart being foolish and hopeful believed it was enough.
Sundays became their favorite chapter. No grand gestures no loud declarations, just two young hearts walking side by side. Tracing the dusty trails of their little town, sometimes to the park and sometimes nowhere at all.
They didn't need to fill the silence, her words danced in the air as he listened with a soft smile. And when she laughed it echoed through the quiet streets like the town itself was falling in love with her too.
He never came empty handed. A chocolate a snack or a pocketful of stories he knew she'd love. She adored food and he adored watching her eyes light up with every bite.
In those unspoken moments between a shared bench and the crinkle of snack wrappers their bond deepened quietly tenderly as if time itself paused to let them have just a little more of each other.