Marcus couldn't let me breathe.
It was like he woke up one morning and realized that my silence meant something permanent — something he couldn't undo.
The moment he sensed I had found peace, he began to chase the noise again.
Calls. Texts. Messages at midnight.
Each one starting with "Please" and ending with "I love you."
He said he now understood what I meant when I begged him for time, attention, peace. He said he was only distant because of his friends — that they made him believe loving too much makes a man weak.
He confessed that his pride had been louder than his heart.
That every time he wanted to show me love, something inside him said, don't let her see it, she'll take you for granted.
Now he was ready to do anything — be anything — just to have me back.
But I had already tasted quietness.
And peace, once tasted, becomes impossible to unlove.
He said he didn't mind being the second option, as long as it meant being close to me.
I almost laughed — not out of mockery, but disbelief. How did we get here? The same man who once made me feel unworthy now begging to exist in my shadow.
He swore Nathan didn't deserve me, that he would hurt me eventually.
I told him to stop texting.
He didn't.
His words felt like thorns wrapped in old memories — familiar, but no longer beautiful.
And while he was fighting ghosts of the past, Nathan was busy choosing me in the present.
He missed me terribly.
It had been weeks since I left his place to return to school. He said, "You know how it is, we're both students, but I can't focus. I want to see you."
I laughed and told him to wait — classes, assignments, life. But he wouldn't.
He travelled down to my school just to see me.
When I saw him at the park that night, tired but smiling, my heart softened.
He carried his small travel bag, waved at me, and that grin… that grin had peace written all over it.
Back at my place, he sat on the couch while I took off my shoes, scrolling through my phone, trying to ignore the flood of messages from Marcus.
His friends, Marcus's friends, even random numbers were texting — all begging me to "just take him back."
My phone wouldn't stop buzzing.
Nathan noticed.
He didn't say a word at first, but I saw the worry in his eyes. Then he asked quietly,
"Elena, what's going on?"
I sighed. "It's Marcus. He won't stop."
He stared at me for a long second, his brows furrowed like he was trying to read between my words.
Then he said something that made my heart ache and melt at once —
"Elena, promise me… no matter how much pressure you get, you won't go back to him."
I smiled, a tired, almost broken kind of smile.
"I won't," I said softly.
"It took me months to find peace. I can't throw that away again."
He nodded slowly, his eyes holding mine like he was memorizing the truth in them.
"I love you," he said — not like a confession, but like a relief.
"I love you too," I whispered.
That night was made of quiet things — laughter, small jokes, his arms wrapped around me as we talked about school, our dreams, the things we missed about each other.
It wasn't grand, but it was real.
We talked until our voices faded into whispers and our hearts spoke in the silence between words.
And somewhere in that night, I realized something simple yet heavy —
Marcus was still fighting to win me back.
Nathan was simply choosing to stay.