Unread Confessions

 

In a room filled with the muffled hum of laughter and clinking glasses. The noise fades as the world focuses on a man and woman standing close but feeling miles apart. His voice trembles, every word heavy with unspoken years. Her eyes glisten with realization, too late to stop the unraveling.)

Him (softly, almost to himself):

"I gave up."

Her (startled, leaning in, voice trembling):

"On what?"

(She searches his face, fear and confusion flickering in her eyes as if she senses the weight of what’s coming.)

Him (looking down, voice cracking):

"The chase. Trying to show you I love you. I ran out of ways to prove myself to you. Every little gesture—everything I did—it was just me trying to win you over. But to you, it was always… just friendship."

(Her breath catches, his words hitting like sharp daggers.)

Him (choking out the words):

"But it took you getting drunk to tell me you love me? That’s what it took? You’ve watched me cry with you, laugh with you, be there for you, all my life."

Her (weakly, almost whispering):

"Half-drunk…"

Him (with a bitter laugh, raising his glass):

"Yeah. Half-drunk. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because even now, when I say I love you, all you can hear is that I’ve been drinking."

Her (desperate, reaching for him):

"No. That’s not fair. You didn’t even give me a chance to tell you how I feel—"

Him (cutting her off, his voice rising):

"Fair? Let me tell you what’s not fair. On your birthday, I gave you flowers, a book, and a note—‘To my forever dance partner.’ I even wrote it in bold letters. But you couldn’t read between the lines. I came over the next morning, and there it was—the note, the flowers—thrown in the trash."

(She gasps, her mind racing back to that day, the memory hitting her like a wave. Tears begin to pool in her eyes.)

Him (his voice softer now, haunted):

"And the book. Did you even read it? I highlighted the part where the author falls in love with his lover. Right at the top, I wrote, ‘This could be us.’ Weeks passed, and I asked you about it. You said it was ‘interesting’ and then told me about some guy at the tattoo shop you liked. All I could think about was my book, gathering dust on your shelf, just like my love for you—untouched, unnoticed."

Her (sobbing now):

"I’m so sorry. I love you too. I always have. I’ll read the book. I’ll—"

Him (cutting her off, voice cold, resigned):

"It’s too late. I’m leaving. Got a job in another province. Tonight’s my last night here. I’m taking the first bus in the morning."

(She freezes, her world crumbling around her.)

Him (with a sad smile):

"I know you love me. I’ve always known. But you don’t love me the way I love you. You love the idea of me—the way I’m always here, checking on you, caring for you. But it’s not enough, is it? You’re halfway in love with me. Almost, but not there."

(She collapses into silence, her hands trembling. He takes another sip, the glass almost empty. His voice breaks as he continues.)

Him:

"I haven’t seen you in a month. My mom got sick. Every day in the hospital, she’d ask about you. She knew about the note I wrote, the flowers I chose—those were her idea. She knew everything. She believed in us more than you ever did."

Her (barely audible):

"How is she?"

Him (staring into the distance, tears spilling down his face):

"She passed. December 26th. 4:45 p.m."

(She gasps, her heart shattering as guilt and sorrow overwhelm her. A voice calls his name from across the room. He glances back, then looks at her one last time.)

Him (smiling sadly, setting down his glass):

"Maybe in another lifetime, we’ll meet again. Maybe then, you’ll love me the way I love you. And maybe… you’ll read the book. For now, go. The party’s still on, champ. Make good choices."

(He turns and walks toward the door, his steps slow, deliberate. She stands frozen, tears streaming down her face, watching as the man who loved her more than anything fades into the night. The noise of the party feels deafening now, but all she can hear is the echo of his final words.)

A night passed she slept haunted by the word of his now  old friend, working up to a song a radio “how to lose a friend” she works up and for a few minutes alone in the house she stares at the book on the shelf, thinking how could she not treasure a gift that looks like just a other homework and yet it was  confession afterall he's a book worm and was she hence he bought her a book, she gets up taking the book shakes off the dust and start walking to the living room makes coffee sat down just when she opened the first page, the tv making noise on the background and she read the first chapter halfway through, the tv news came through “ Today, morning a long haul bus crashed near the bridge an well over, just next to the water, officials on he scene report the are 20 confirmed dead people and a few were transfered to the nearest hospital it is a tragedy that has devastated the town and the officials are still searching for some passengers and some are still stuck in the bus”

She sat there looking at the news with tears slowly escaping her eyes, she doesn't know whether it is the bus he was taking or maybe he changed his mind and if he did take the bus did he survive, and maybe he proceeded to go to another lifetime, now the coldness of the morning, got so heavy on her skin, she picks up her phone a to call him and  no there was answer. She called again it just kept ringing.