SAY I LOVE YOU

POV - SIENNA

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Some Words Are Worth the Wait

Liam and I had been best friends for years.

Through every heartbreak, every triumph, every late-night call that stretched into dawn, he had been there. My constant. My safe place. He knew me in ways no one else ever could—my fears, my dreams, the little things that made me me.

But in all those years, through all the secrets and laughter, there was one thing he had never said.

"I love you."

And I had never asked why.

---

It was one of those nights—the kind where the air was thick with the scent of summer, where the world felt suspended between reality and something softer. We had both had too much to drink, the kind of hazy intoxication that made everything feel lighter yet impossibly heavy at the same time.

Liam sat beside me, his fingers toying with the rim of his glass, his gaze lingering on me just a little too long.

Then, out of nowhere, he reached for me.

A simple gesture—a brush of his fingers as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. But his touch lingered. His eyes softened in a way that made my heart stutter.

"Sienna…"

My breath caught. His voice—rough, hesitant—was a plea, a confession trapped behind hesitation.

Say it.

Please, Liam. Just say it.

But then, just as quickly, he pulled away.

Ran a hand through his hair. Shook his head.

"Forget it."

And just like that, the moment was gone.

---

Days turned into weeks. I convinced myself it didn’t matter. That I was imagining things. That if it had mattered, he would have said something.

And then, I saw him with her.

Her name was Olivia. She was beautiful, kind—everything I wasn’t. The kind of girl people wrote love songs about. And the way Liam looked at her?

It shattered me.

Because it was the way I had always looked at him.

I told myself it was fine. That he had never been mine to begin with. I forced myself to smile when he talked about her, to laugh when he teased me like nothing had changed.

And when I started dating someone else, I convinced myself it was the right thing to do.

But Liam?

Liam changed.

His usual teasing faded, his laughter felt hollow. There were moments when I would catch him staring, something unreadable in his expression, something raw. But he never said anything.

Until the night he saw me with someone else.

I was at a café, my fingers intertwined with another guy’s, laughing at some joke I barely heard. And then—Liam was there.

His jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might break.

"You don’t love him," he said.

His voice was low, almost dangerous.

Anger flared in my chest. "And you love her, don’t you?"

Silence.

That silence hurt more than any rejection ever could.

I turned to leave, my heart pounding, my vision blurring. But before I could take another step, his hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me back.

"Wait," he breathed.

I froze. No. No, I can’t do this again. I can’t be an almost.

I turned to him, my voice breaking. "For what, Liam? Another almost-confession? Another moment where you almost choose me?"