Would you fight for love, even when you know it's a lost case?
Or would you surrender before it destroys what's left of you?
Lucien Klein Arriaga
"Your birthday's coming up. Got any wishes this year?" he asked, voice casual and teasing.
I laughed softly, pretending to think. "Actually, there is one."
It was such a simple wish, yet it felt like the hardest thing to ask for.
He looked at me, waiting for my answer, and I wondered where it all started.
He wasn't supposed to mean this much.
He wasn't supposed to be everything.
But somewhere between late-night talks and laughter, something shifted. He became the voice I searched for in a crowded room, the presence I craved more than comfort itself. And somewhere in those fleeting moments, I thought maybe.. just maybe.. he felt the same.
He did. Or maybe I only convinced myself he did.
Because every time his phone lit up with his name, just like now, I felt pieces of myself fade away. Each word he spoke about him cut deeper than he could ever realize. Yet I stayed. I always stayed.
Maybe it is foolish. Maybe it is desperate. But isn't love always a bit of both?
Love, I've learned, was never meant to be fair in the first place. Fate seems to enjoy watching us ache for what we can never have. It shows you what could be, only to remind you it was never yours to begin with. It teases you with endless possibilities, then traps you in the reality of what-ifs and almosts.
I used to believe that if someone was meant for you, fate would find a way. But fate doesn't always play fair. Sometimes, it gives you exactly what you want just to see if you're strong enough to lose it.
There are nights I lie awake wondering when I began to hope. Was it the way he smiled when he said my name? The way his eyes softened when we talked about small, meaningless things? Or maybe it was how he made me feel seen for the first time. How, when everything around him fell apart, he always ran to me first.
The man in front of me once told me I was easy to talk to. That he felt at peace when we spoke. I guess those simple words became everything to me. But peace is dangerous. It makes you forget where you stand. It makes you believe something pure can blossom even when it's rooted in impossibility.
After a long internal debate, I finally spoke. This time, I just want to let him know what I want. What I truly want. "Hmm... Maybe... to be the one someone actually chooses for once?" I finally said, breaking my silence.
He smiled. The kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes.
And the silence that followed told me everything.
I saw the answer in his hesitation, the subtle shift in his tone, the apology hidden in his gaze.
He didn't reject me outright. He didn't have to. The silence said enough.
Some wishes are never meant to come true.
Because how can you ask to be chosen by someone who already belongs to someone else?
Maybe love isn't about winning or losing. Maybe it's just about having the courage to feel deeply, even when you're never chosen.
Kaius Oziel Varella
"Your birthday's coming up. Got any wishes this year?" I kept my tone light, teasing, like this was nothing more than another easy conversation between us. He laughed, soft and familiar, and for a second I forgot how to breathe. "Actually, there is one," he said.
Of course there is, I wanted to say.
I've been planning for weeks how to give it to you without you ever realizing I'd been listening to this closely.
It was supposed to be simple.
I'd take him to that restaurant he loved, the one with the terrible pasta but the view of city lights he wouldn't stop talking about. I'd reserve the rooftop, the one he always picked because it felt safe. I'd slide a small envelope across the table, a letter that said: I choose you. Not halfway. Not almost. Fully.
He had no idea that I'd already started untangling my life for him.
He looked at me, waiting for my answer, and I wondered where it all started.
Maybe it was the first time he stayed on the phone with me until the sun came up, listening without judgment while I tried to explain why I felt like I was drowning in a life I'd chosen.
Maybe it was the way he remembered the smallest things, how I wanted my drinks and cakes, which songs made me quiet, the fact that I hated thunderstorms but loved the sound of rain, everything Julian always forgot.
Somewhere in all of that, he stopped being just Lucien and became the person my heart kept running toward.
He wasn't supposed to mean this much.
He wasn't supposed to be everything.
But now he is.
My phone lit up on the table between us, his name flashing across the screen, Julian.
For a moment, the world narrowed to that single glow. I saw Lucien glance at it, then away, the same quiet flinch I'd been pretending not to notice for months.
Every time Julian's name appeared, something in Lucien dimmed.
Every time I talked about him, about us, I could feel Lucien shrinking, folding himself into the spaces between my words.
And I hated it. I hated that I was the one making him feel small when he was the only person who had ever made me feel like I could be more.
I had already made my decision.
Julian deserved honesty. So did Lucien. I knew I couldn't keep standing in the doorway between them, pretending I wasn't choosing every day just by staying still. I had planned to end it.. cleanly, gently, as kindly as a breakup could be…before Lucien's birthday. Before I tried to give him anything that looked like a promise.
"Hmm... Maybe... to be the one someone actually chooses for once?" he said at last.
The words hit me like a punch I'd been walking toward in slow motion. I felt my throat close around everything I wanted to say.
Lucien, I'm trying.
I'm already choosing you.
I just need time to do it right, so it doesn't destroy you, or him, or me.
But all that came out was a smile. The wrong one. The practiced one. The safe one. The one that had gotten me through years of pretending I wasn't slowly breaking apart under everyone's expectations.
I saw the way he read it. Saw the way his shoulders dipped, the way the light in his eyes flickered and then steadied into something quieter, resigned.
He thought that smile was a no. He thought my silence was indifference.
He didn't hear the war in my head.
He didn't hear the list of things I wanted to say but couldn't…not yet, not like this.
I wanted to tell him that I'd already started packing pieces of my life into boxes in my mind. That I'd replayed the conversation with Julian a hundred times, each version ending with me finally stop lying, to him, to myself, to Lucien.
But how do you tell someone you're choosing them when you still belong to someone else?
So I let the moment hang there, heavy and fragile.
I watched his heart interpret my silence as rejection when, for me, it was a promise I wasn't ready to speak aloud.
The apology in my gaze was real.
Not because I didn't want him, but because I did. More than I knew how to handle without breaking everything in the process.
Some wishes are never meant to come true, he would probably think.
But he didn't know that his wish was already echoing inside my chest, rearranging everything.
Maybe love is about winning and losing after all. Maybe it's about having the courage to feel deeply, so you can finally choose the one who is truly meant to be chosen.