The waves of love in my life

Lena always knew how to hold others together.

It was her specialty.

The fixer. The friend. The one you called at 3 a.m. when the world was falling apart.

But no one ever asked where she went when her world cracked.

Until he did.

It had been six years since Lena saw Aariz.

And yet, standing outside the community center last week—watching him lead a youth writing workshop with the same soft voice and awkward charm—her heart didn't care about time. It remembered.

[Flashback – 19 years old]

They were in college. Lena and Aariz. Both broke, both angry at the world, both in love with words and each other.

But when Aariz spiraled—drowning in panic attacks and dropping classes—Lena tried to save him the same way she'd saved Mira: by giving everything and losing herself.

When he shut her out, she walked away.

Not because she stopped loving him.

Because she didn't know how to love someone without disappearing.

She buried that guilt like a secret under her skin.

[Present Day – Community Center]

Now here he was—older, steadier, still with that unreadable smile.

"You still talk in metaphors?" he asked, after she finally spoke.

"Only when I'm nervous," she admitted.

Aariz chuckled. "You've been quiet a long time, Lena."

She looked down. "I didn't want to be seen unless I was useful."

His voice softened. "That's not what love is. That's what fear tells you."

That night, they sat on the center's rooftop under fairy lights, catching up between silences.

"I read Mira's piece," he said. "It broke something open in me. And then I saw you… standing in the back."

"She's brave," Lena whispered.

"So are you."

Lena turned to him. "No. She survived the fall. I just watched."

Aariz shook his head. "You didn't just watch, Lena. You held her while she shattered. But maybe now… it's your turn to stop holding everyone else. And hold yourself."

[Flashback – 22 years old]

The night after her father died, Lena didn't cry.

She cleaned the hospital room, packed his things, and went home.

Alone.

She called no one.

Not even Aariz.

Especially not Aariz.

That night, she decided emotions were unsafe.

And love… was too expensive.

[Present Day – Her Apartment]

Lena sat on her bed now, holding an unopened letter.

Aariz had handed it to her when they parted.

"Something I wrote for you… years ago. I just never had the courage to give it."

She opened it slowly.

Lena,

You don't have to fix me. I never needed a rescuer. I needed you to believe that even broken people could stand beside each other—equally.

You walked away before I could prove I was learning how.

But if you ever come back, I won't ask for love. I'll ask for honesty.

And if you're ready, maybe we can start there.

—A.

Lena cried for the first time in years.

Not out of heartbreak.

But because someone had seen her—not the armor. Her.

And maybe… just maybe…

it was time to start telling her story.