When we broke up, everyone asked me why.

Young and in love, we were together for three years and people assumed we'd be each other's endgame. I thought that too.

Darling, we were so good together, finishing each other's sentences. We often showed up in the same outfit, and believe me, they were unplanned. Our minds and bodies were in sync.

We rarely argued, you bought me chocolates (the kind I loved), i made your favourite meals and helped out with school projects. I dreamt of you every night and woke up to your sweet messages.

I still remember the day everything went wrong. Fresh in my mind, I recall how moody you were that morning. Looking back, that should have been my cue to leave, but I ignored it.

You frequently woke up on the wrong side. It was nothing to worry about, and certainly not what anyone else wanted to hear.

That day, you confessed your doubts and that was the start of the downward spiral. After that week, you started staying out late. Wanting more time with the boys. Fighting for the littlest reasons.

You rarely ate my food, and all my silly jokes went over your head. Holding hands became too cheesy, and calling everyday became too monotonous.

Still, I stayed. Watering a dead plant, and waiting for the day you would come back with a warm hug for me.

At the end, none of it mattered because in the end, you never loved me.