Merry Christmas.

he loved her in a quiet way. not loud, not dramatic. just constant. the kind of love that sits patiently and never asks for more than it’s given.

he loved her through screens and late nights and jokes that didn’t sound special to anyone else. he loved her when she was close, and even when she stepped back. he told himself it was okay. that love didn’t need to be returned the same way to still be real.

christmas came and everything felt heavier. lights everywhere. laughter in the background. she was happy, surrounded, alive in a way he couldn’t touch anymore. and he smiled too, because he didn’t want to be the shadow in the room.

but inside, something finally gave.

he realized he had been holding onto love with nowhere to put it. loving someone who didn’t leave, but couldn’t stay. loving so deeply that there was nothing left for himself.

they say he died on christmas. not in some tragic, obvious way. just quietly. the way feelings do when they’re stretched too far. the way a heart gives up after loving too much for too long.

he didn’t hate her. even at the end, he only wanted her to be okay. that was always enough for him.

and while the world kept celebrating, while lights blinked and songs played, he let go one last time, smiling softly to himself and whispering,

merry christmas.