Genur.art

I’d stay with him for a night, just long enough to catch my breath. He’d ask me to stay, tell me I deserved better, but deep down I didn’t believe it. I’d go back the next morning, back to the chaos. I didn’t think I was good enough to be loved the way he loved me. It was too pure, too real. I wasn’t ready to face the truth: that I was afraid of losing control, afraid that if I let him in, he’d see the real me—messy, complicated, broken—and that he wouldn’t love me after all.