Fragments of lies

“No… no, you don’t understand. I lied. None of it was real. You were just… a piece in my plan. That trust you gave me? I tore it from your hands and turned it into a weapon. You. Don’t. Matter!”

My voice cracked. My chest ached from the weight of the confession. And yet… the moment those words left me, I realized something terrifying: you did matter. You mattered in ways I couldn’t control. You haunted the edges of my mind, the first thought before my eyes opened, the last before they closed.

My mind clawed into every detail of you, like it couldn’t let go. The corner of your mouth that twitched when you tried not to laugh, the way your eyes flared like fire when something stirred your soul, the faint brush of your fingertips against my skin that lingered longer than it should, and the way your gaze followed me like I was the only thing you could see.

It scared me. How could it not? I, the one who was supposed to be untouchable, found myself unravelling. So I did what I always did when I was afraid. I lied. I pushed you away with words meant to cut, wound, to shield myself from feeling too much.

 

He said it was all a lie. That I never meant a single thing. But I saw him. I saw the way he looked at me when he thought no one was watching, vulnerable, unguarded, real. Emotions raw written all over his face. Clenched jaw, hands curled into fists whenever someone approached me. Glimpses of smiles that I kept stealing for myself. The way how his cold eyes softened for a second when meeting mine.

Words can be faked, yes, but eyes? Eyes don’t lie. Even if he tried, even if he said it was nothing… part of him, deep down, had to mean it. I know he did.

And that knowledge… that painful, impossible truth… is what will haunt me forever.