“There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams — not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
It may not always be about romantic love.
Sometimes it’s simply affection – slow, steady, real.
Shared laughter.
Late-night conversations.
A quiet ease in each other’s presence.
And with affection, comes trust –
Not declared, but gently growing.
You open up.
You care.
And then one day, something shifts.
A small lie.
An omission.
A silence that hides.
It’s not betrayal. Not quite heartbreak.
But it stings.
Because they mattered.
Because you let them in.
Because they had your trust.
Sometimes, an open argument over a hard truth
hurts less than a hidden one.
Because pain can be processed –
but silence and lies… they linger.
You try to carry on as before,
But the warmth has dimmed.
You pull back.
You still care – but now, from a polite distance.
So you give space – to them, and to yourself.
And eventually, you choose.
Maybe to forgive and move forward – but cautiously.
To remain open – but more discerning and distant .
—
An ordinary life 