They were best friends. Always had been.
Shared books, playlists, secrets—everything except the one thing that mattered.
Love.
He loved her in silence.
She loved him in secret.
Each one waited for the other to say something first. But neither did.
He was there when her heart broke—twice. She cried into his hoodie, never knowing it broke his heart too.
She was there when his mother died. He held her hand tighter than anyone else’s, but still… said nothing.
One night, after a few too many drinks, she whispered,
“Do you think we missed our chance?”
He smiled painfully and replied,
“What chance?”
They never talked about it again.
She moved to another city. Got married. Sent him an invitation.
He didn’t go.
But he still keeps the RSVP card—blank.
Because some stories aren’t about what happened.
They’re about what almost did.
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