The Space Between Us Changed
After that day,
nothing looked different.
But everything felt different.
We still talked the same way.
Still laughed at the same things.
Still stayed in that space we’ve always been in
comfortable, easy, familiar.
But something in me refused to go back to how it was.
It started in the smallest moments.
The kind no one would notice.
The kind that should’ve meant nothing.
Walking beside you,
close enough that our arms would brush sometimes—
and suddenly, I was aware of it.
Too aware.
Crossing the street,
reaching for your hand like it was normal
like we’ve done it a hundred times before
but this time, I felt it.
Not just the warmth.
Not just the contact.
But the meaning behind it.
Or maybe…
the meaning I was starting to give it.
And that’s what scared me.
Because I didn’t know when it stopped being simple.
I didn’t know when my body started reacting
before my mind could even make sense of it.
Every time I held your hand,
there was this quiet tension in my chest.
Not enough to pull away.
But enough to make me question everything.
I would tell myself,
“This is normal. This is nothing. This is just us.”
But it didn’t feel like nothing anymore.
And I hated that I couldn’t go back
to not noticing.
I started noticing everything.
The way you looked at me
when you thought I wasn’t paying attention.
The way your voice softened
in certain moments.
The way you stayed close
not too close,
but close enough that I could feel it.
And I kept asking myself the same question
over and over again
Do you feel this too?
Or is this just me
turning something simple
into something it’s not?
There were moments you’d go quiet,
and I’d feel it even more.
That silence between us
was never empty.
It was heavy.
Like there were things sitting there
that neither of us were saying.
And maybe…
that’s what made it harder.
Because nothing was happening.
But everything was happening inside me.
I tried to control it.
Tried to stay where I was supposed to be.
Best friend.
Safe place.
No complications.
I repeated it in my head
like it would fix something.
Like if I held onto that label hard enough,
it would stop whatever was growing inside me.
But it didn’t.
Because the truth was
this wasn’t confusion anymore.
It wasn’t just curiosity.
It wasn’t just closeness.
It was awareness.
A quiet, steady realization
that something had already changed.
And no matter how normal I tried to act,
I couldn’t ignore it.
Not when my heart reacted
before I could stop it.
Not when being near you
started to feel like something I had to manage.
Not when leaving you
felt just a little harder than it should’ve been.
I didn’t say anything.
I didn’t ask.
I didn’t want to know the answer.
Because a part of me already knew
if I gave this feeling a name,
if I let it become real
there would be no going back.
So I stayed quiet.
Stayed in my place.
Pretended I didn’t notice
how much had already changed.
But deep down
I knew.
Something had already crossed the line.
Not in what we did.
Not in anything anyone could see.
But in me.
And that was the part
I didn’t know how to undo.