Luther's world had changed.
Kurumi was no longer just a name on a screen.
She had become the center of his thoughts, the rhythm of his days, the quiet warmth he craved.
Every morning, he checked his phone first.
Every night, her messages were the last thing he read before sleep.
Their conversations had deepened.
It was no longer jokes and casual chats.
It was everything—hopes, fears, dreams, regrets, and secrets.
He told her things he had never told anyone else.
And she listened. Always.
She shared her past, her struggles, her moments of doubt.
Roz's name appeared occasionally.
At first, he ignored it.
He told himself it was just history.
But his heart refused to listen.
Every time she mentioned Roz, every time she reminisced about moments they had shared, a small knot formed in his chest.
He tried to push it down, tried to focus on the present.
But overthinking was his nature.
Every pause in her messages, every slight delay in response, every ambiguous word—it haunted him.
Some days, he felt calm.
Other days, his mind spun endlessly with fear, jealousy, and doubt.
He began withdrawing from everything else.
Friends, family, hobbies—all faded into the background.
He no longer felt the same joy in other things.
Everything revolved around Kurumi.
Weeks turned into months.
Every small interaction became significant.
Every minor word, gesture, or tone was dissected in his mind.
He became hyper-aware of her moods.
Her happiness dictated his own.
Her silence distressed him.
And yet, he could not let go.
He loved her too deeply.
Too entirely.
She had become a part of him.
And she did not even realize the extent of his dependence.
Kurumi, on the other hand, remained distant in subtle ways.
Not always. Not cruelly.
But unpredictably.
Some days, she laughed, shared stories, seemed fully present.
Other days, she spoke coldly, dismissed his feelings, or mentioned Roz casually.
He learned to swallow everything.
He did not argue. He did not fight.
He loved her too much to risk it.
And yet, the pain grew.
It was subtle at first.
A tightness in the chest.
A dull ache behind the eyes.
Sleepless nights where he replayed conversations in his head.
Minor arguments became storms in his mind.
"You don't even try."
"You're too sensitive."
"You're not enough."
The words haunted him long after they were spoken.
He stopped seeing friends.
He stopped engaging in family activities.
He stopped doing anything that could distract him from the growing chaos in his heart.
Days became monotonous cycles of waiting, thinking, analyzing.
And the more he overthought, the more distant she seemed.
Until one evening, he made a mistake.
A small, innocent question about Roz.
But her response was sharp.
"Why do you even care about the past?"
Her tone was casual, almost dismissive.
But it cut deeper than any knife.
He swallowed hard. Said nothing.
And the silence between them stretched.
Hours. Days.
Until finally, she replied.
"I like you, Luther. But you think too much."
He tried to understand. Tried to accept it.
But the words only seeded more doubt.
He loved her beyond reason.
And she had hinted, in subtle ways, that her heart belonged elsewhere once.
Yet he stayed.
Because letting go was impossible.
Weeks turned into months.
Their conversations remained long, daily, but now tinged with tension.
Every message became a battlefield of emotions.
Every call, a tightrope walk.
He began feeling empty in moments she was not around.
The small joys of life, once bright, now seemed dull.
Food tasted bland. Music felt hollow. Classes felt endless.
Even the sun felt cold when she was silent.
And still, he loved her.
More than anything.
More than himself.
More than sanity, sometimes.
Then came the day she crossed a line.
A careless joke about him being "useless" or "too sensitive."
At first, he ignored it.
Then, over the hours, over the days, it festered.
The words became poison.
They seeped into every thought, every memory.
He started questioning everything.
Had she ever loved him?
Or had he been a mere placeholder for the void she had inside?
The thought was unbearable.
He tried to tell himself it was just fear.
But his heart refused logic.
He loved her. Deeply. Truly.
And yet, he was drowning.
Months of long-distance love, hours of conversation, emotional investment—had brought him here.
Alone. Empty. Broken inside.
The final blow came one evening.
A message from her, blunt, harsh.
"You're just a loser. Garbage."
She blocked him.
Every platform. Every account.
And Luther, desperate, created a new account.
He had to see. Had to understand.
And there it was.
Roz.
Her ex. Her first love.
Seeing her with him, smiling, living, laughing… everything Luther had built his world around shattered.
His body went cold.
His chest felt like it was caving in.
The digital screen could not capture the weight in his heart.
It was a void. Dark. Endless.
And he realized…
She had never loved him like he loved her.
She had only used him to fill her emptiness.
Months of love, hours of dedication, every secret shared, every vulnerable moment—it meant nothing to her.
And he was left with nothing.
Nothing but heartbreak.
And the slow, suffocating emptiness that began to consume him.
Luther stared at the screen.
Time passed, but he could not move.
He felt the darkness creeping in, inch by inch, over every corner of his heart.
The world moved on around him, oblivious to the boy who was breaking inside.
And as he sat there, the realization struck him…
Some voids are not meant to be filled.
Some love is not meant to survive.
And some hearts…
Are meant to break.
To Be Continued…