I was angrier than I expected to be, and it took time to understand why. Nothing dramatic happened. No blow-up. Just a careful, thoughtful message that sounded balanced and kind, while quietly shifting where responsibility landed. I realised my reaction wasn’t emotional insecurity, it was ethical alarm. I have ADHD and a highly responsive justice system. When responsibility moves toward the person who can cope, rather than the one causing disruption, my body notices first.

I went quiet deliberately. I watched someone I love get hurt by the person meant to love them most, and the truth didn’t arrive as a single moment but as gaps, stories, and details shared too casually to ignore. I knew what was happening. I also knew that if the truth came from me, it would only cause more harm. Silence cost me a friendship, but speaking would have cost even more.

He’s the kind of man who brings soup when you’re sick and memes when you’re spiralling. He deserves love that feels safe, not something he has to earn. But he’s stuck in a loop—waiting on silence, clinging to crumbs. This isn’t love. It’s survival. And when he’s ready to stop calling it love, I’ll be here. No judgment. Just soup. And bad memes.

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