I Wish You Asked Me Once

Dear Delyara, I don’t think you ever realised how much I needed you to ask me if I was okay. Not in a casual way. Not in passing. I mean really ask. And wait for the answer. Because if you had… I think I would have broken down right there. I was holding so much inside — things I didn’t even understand myself. And I kept telling myself, “It’s fine… it’s not that bad…” But it was. And I was tired. Tired of being the strong one. Tired of always being the one who listens. Tired of pretending that nothing was wrong. You were close enough to see it. I know you were. But you didn’t ask. And maybe that’s what hurt the most. Not the pain itself… But the silence around it.