More than friends, less than lovers.
The hardest part wasn’t falling for each other—it was never knowing what to call it. We existed somewhere in between, in that quiet space where hands almost touch and words almost mean something more. We weren’t just friends; we knew each other too deeply for that. You knew the way my voice changed when I was lying, and I knew the exact second your smile stopped being real. But we weren’t lovers either—there were no confessions, no promises, just lingering glances and conversations that stretched too late into the night. Everyone else tried to label us. We never did. Maybe because naming it would mean risking it. Maybe because once you admit something matters that much, you also admit you could lose it. So we stayed here—more than friends, less than lovers—pretending that the space between us wasn’t the loudest thing in the room.
About More than friends, less than lovers.
The hardest part wasn’t falling for each other—it was never knowing what to call it. We existed somewhere in between, in that quiet space where hands almost touch and words almost mean something more. We weren’t just friends; we knew each other too deeply for that. You knew the way my voice changed when I was lying, and I knew the exact second ...Read more