Written by me and someone else..
Milk POV
"Milk?"
I hear her voice, soft but persistent, yet I don't respond. I just keep staring at the blank, white wall in front of me, as if the emptiness there could match the emptiness inside me. My heart feels hollow, my soul feels lost somewhere I can't reach. Every heartbeat reminds me of the pain I can't shake off.
"Hey." She calls again, softer this time. I feel the couch shift as someone sits next to me, close enough that I can sense her warmth. A hand moves gently to my back, tracing soothing circles. Slowly, I turn to face her, my expression blank, emotionless.
Namtan looks at me with a soft sympathy that twists something raw inside me. Her lips curve into a sad, gentle smile. I hate it. I hate being looked at with pity. But tonight, I don't have the energy to push her away, to scold her for feeling sorry for me. I let her see me like this, stripped of defenses, and I don't care anymore.
"Hey... I know it's hard for you," she says quietly, her voice warm, steady, "but I'm here. As your family, your friend, or whoever you want me to be."
Her words crack something inside me, a fragile dam I've been holding back for too long. Namtan has always been busy, always caught up in her work and responsibilities, but when it comes to me, she never fails to show up. She's like a sister to me, even though there's barely a few days' difference between us. She spoils me, cares for me, protects me in ways that feel like a lifeline. I notice her uniform, the faint smell of her perfume, and I know she came straight here after her English class, her dedication never failing, not even for me. She's a teacher at a private school, a little crazy, but always fiercely loyal to those she loves.
Her hands slide to my waist, gently pulling me toward her. I let my head rest on her shoulder, close my eyes, and try to stop the tears. I won't cry in front of her—not yet. But the scent of her, that familiar calm that always seems to ground me, makes the tears slip anyway.
"You can cry, babe," she whispers, holding me tighter, "I'll be here. I'll never leave you, not like she did."
Her words break me. The tears I've been holding back pour freely, warm and unrelenting, soaking into her uniform. My hands clutch her waist as I sob like a child, every broken fragment of me spilling out without restraint.
"Namtan..." I whisper, my voice barely audible, choking on my grief. She hushes me softly, pressing me closer, holding me as if she could shield me from the world.
"It hurts so much," I confess between sobs. "She left me... What did I do wrong?"
Perhaps I should explain, who she is, why she matters so much. Her name is Love Pattranite, my favorite person, the one I imagined my entire future with. Love, my love, my everything. But now... she's gone. She broke up with me, telling me she needs time to find herself, to think about us. She said that being with me meant she didn't have space for her own growth, that she couldn't discover her true colors while being tied to me.
I know it sounds like excuses. But I couldn't stop her, I wasn't her legal wife, I didn't have the right to hold her back. I couldn't make her stay without risking everything, including her happiness. And I wanted her happiness more than anything. I loved her enough to let her go, even when every fiber of my being screamed to hold on.
She said she still loves me, but she can't handle this relationship. She wants freedom, from responsibility, from me. And as much as I ache to understand, I can't ignore the betrayal I feel in my own heart. I tried so hard. I gave everything I had to make her happy, to make us work. I imagined our future constantly, how many children we'd have, where we'd live, the life we'd build together. But now, I am left with empty dreams and a reality that feels unbearably cold.
