the Sum of it all

5

Dear Oliver,

I know you've tried to look at me the way I've always looked at you—with that soft, unshakable gaze that sees the world and stops right at you. I know why you couldn't, why you're still failing. It's conviction, isn't it? The kind that keeps you standing still, even when everything inside you whispers to move closer. I've always been sensitive to you, noticing every little thing—the way you breathe when you're nervous, the subtle shifts in your tone, the way your silence sometimes speaks louder than your words. Our moments together replay in my mind like an old film, the kind you never want to forget.

Do you remember our first date? I got lost finding the restaurant you wanted to go to, and I laughed it off, but inside, I was terrified of disappointing you. We sat there in silence, watching the game, our small talk fading into the quiet. And then, when night fell, you walked me to the bus stop. I never looked back, not even a glance through the window as I left. I was too scared—scared that you'd be watching me go, and even more scared that you'd see the tears I couldn't hold back, tears born from a kind of happiness I'd never known. All we shared that night were small moments, tiny conversations that dissolved into quiet, but it was everything to me.

You left me with regrets, though, did you know that? After you texted me that you got home safe, there was nothing. No follow-up, no bridge to the next moment, just silence. And I've thought so many times—what if I had stopped halfway to the bus, turned back, and smiled? What if I'd told you I enjoyed it so much, that being with you felt like stepping into a dream? Would that have changed anything? Would you have seen me differently, as more than just someone passing through your life?

I know you tried. You told my mom you'd wait to see if I could move your heart, if I could ever settle there. And knowing that you tried—even if you couldn't—it makes me happy in a bittersweet way. You saw me, but never enough to let me carve a place in your world. And maybe that's just the way we were meant to be—close enough to touch but never close enough to hold.

With love,
Mori