The Silence Of Lost Feelings

Lumen sat in his room that evening, surrounded by the quiet hum of his thoughts. He had tried to bury the growing unease that had crept into his life since Lina and Jun had started spending more time together, but it refused to be ignored. He kept telling himself that it wasn't a big deal—that it was just a phase, just something that would blow over. After all, Lina had always been there, hadn't she? She was his friend, and nothing was going to change that, no matter how many times she laughed with Jun or smiled at him in the hallways.

But deep down, Lumen knew it wasn't true. The truth was, something had changed, and it was something he couldn't escape.

Every time he saw Lina with Jun, a sharp pang of discomfort twisted in his chest. It wasn't jealousy, not the way most people would experience it. It was something deeper, something that gnawed at him like a distant memory he couldn't quite place. It was the understanding that he had missed his chance. That he had waited too long to act, waited too long to be honest, and now, Lina had found someone who was there for her in the way he couldn't bring himself to be.

Lumen rubbed his temples, trying to push the thoughts aside. He couldn't keep obsessing over this. He had his own goals—his own future to focus on. He had always prided himself on being able to keep a level head, to focus on his studies and his ambitions. But with Lina slipping away, that sense of control was quickly unraveling.

He had lied to her.

The thought echoed in his mind like a relentless drumbeat.

Lumen had never been good with feelings. He never understood why things had to be so complicated. When Lina asked him who he liked, he could have told her the truth. He could have opened up, faced the vulnerability that he had spent so long avoiding. But instead, he had lied. He had pushed her away, convinced that hiding his feelings behind a lie would somehow protect him. Protect him from what? From rejection? From feeling inadequate? The more he thought about it, the more he realized how foolish it had been.

And now, Lina was gone. Not physically—she was still there, walking the halls, still smiling, still being the person she always was. But emotionally, she had already moved on. She had chosen Jun, and Lumen had no one to blame but himself and only him.

He leaned back against his chair, staring at the ceiling, letting the weight of his realization sink in as he let out sigh. There were no excuses. He had failed her. He had failed to be the person she needed, the person who would show up for her when it mattered. Instead, he had kept his distance, afraid to speak the truth, afraid to take the risk.

The more he replayed their interactions in his mind, the clearer it became. He had been waiting for something to magically change, for Lina to somehow realize that he cared for her, despite everything. He had hoped that she would be patient with him, that she would understand his silence as something other than rejection. But she hadn't. And why should she have? She had been patient enough. She had asked him plainly, and all he had done was lie to her.

Lumen curled himself as he laid on his bed, his silent anger and disappointment rising—not at Lina, but at himself. The self-doubt, the fear of not being good enough, had kept him from being honest. And now, it had cost him everything.

Why had he waited so long to say anything?

A part of him had been afraid—afraid that if he told her the truth, if he let her know how deeply he cared for her, she might not feel the same. The idea of rejection, of not being enough for her, had paralyzed him. And yet, in holding back, he had pushed her away in a way that was far more painful than any rejection could have been.

Lumen could almost feel the space between them growing, like an invisible chasm that had once been narrow but was now widening with each passing day. It wasn't just the proposal, the commitment Jun had made to her. It was the realization that Lumen had never fully committed to her. He had been afraid of what might happen if he did. And now, he had lost the chance to find out.

He stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth across his room. His mind raced with possibilities—things he could have said, things he could have done. But none of them mattered anymore. The damage was done.

As he walked to the window and stared out into the night, the city lights flickering like distant stars, a deep sense of emptiness settled over him. He had tried to convince himself that he was fine, that he could move on without addressing the truth. But now, standing there, he realized how much he had been fooling himself. The truth was, he wasn't fine.

Lina was slipping away, and it was all his fault.

Lumen sighed heavily, his reflection in the glass staring back at him like a stranger. In that moment, he understood something painful but undeniable: he had let fear rule his decisions. He had let doubt cloud his judgment. And now, it was too late.

The question that had haunted him for so long—What if?—was no longer just a passing thought. It was a weight, a burden that he would carry for a long time. He couldn't undo the past, and he couldn't go back in time and take the words back.

But there was one thing he could still do.

Lumen made a decision then, a quiet but resolute one. He didn't know what the future would hold, or if he would ever have a chance to make things right with Lina. But he knew one thing: he wouldn't keep running from his own feelings. He wouldn't keep avoiding the truth.

If he had any hope of ever moving forward, it had to start with facing his own regrets. It had to start with being honest—not just with Lina, but with himself.

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