They said it was temporary. She asked for help with her rent once. A one-time thing, she said. I said yes. I trusted her. I wanted to help. I didn’t think twice. Then another bill came. Then another. Each time, she thanked me politely. A s...
I never thought I’d be the kind of person who ruins his own career for someone else. But here I am. Her name is Melanie, and she’s the kind of coworker everyone trusts—except she’s not always honest. I found out early, by ...
Every day, I patch things up. Emails she forgot to send. Reports she half-finished. Mistakes she didn’t even realize she made. I fix them before anyone notices. I stay late. I skip lunch. I ignore the tension in my shoulders, the dull ache ...
Every day, I cook for her. Not just any meals. Her favorite meals. The ones she mentioned once in passing, months ago, while laughing about how no one ever remembered them. I remember. I never forget. Chicken adobo on Mondays. Pancit on Wednesday...
He knew he shouldn’t. He knew she had told him clearly: “I’m not interested, okay?” But every time she posted a photo, he hovered. Every post, every story, every fleeting moment of her online life became a ...
The notes app on my phone is full of her. Not messages—drafts. Lines written at 2:14 a.m. Lines written on buses, in waiting rooms, during moments when I should’ve been paying attention to my own life. Every poem has h...
My name is Rafael, and I’m from Mexico. I write poems for her. Not the kind you post publicly. Not the kind that gets likes or applause. I write them in quiet moments—late at night, early mornings, whenever her name crosses my mind a...
My name is Tomas, and I’m from Brazil. She loved her dog more than anything. Everyone knew that. Whenever she talked about her problems, they always came back to him—vet visits, medicine, late nights when he wouldn’t eat. I list...
The blue light of my laptop screen felt like needles in my eyes. It was 4:14 AM in Mexico City, and the distant sound of a garbage truck was the only thing breaking the silence of my apartment. Across the video call, Sofia was spiraling. "Mateo, ...
Emeka looked at the last ₦5000 in his bank account. It was supposed to cover his transport for the next week and maybe a few bowls of garri. But his thumb was already hovering over the "Pay Now" button on the online fashion store. It was her birt...
The neon lights of Bangkok’s Sukhumvit Road blurred into a smear of pink and blue outside the window, but Somchai didn’t notice the city’s pulse. His focus was entirely on the glowing rectangle of his phone. He sat in the corner...
My name is Faizal, and I’m from Malaysia. She was passionate about her charity work. Always posting updates about fundraisers, social campaigns, or volunteer projects. I admired that. More than admired—I was captivated. There was some...
My name is Liam, and I’m from Australia. She was brilliant. Ambitious. The kind of person who made everyone around her feel small because she seemed unstoppable. Her startup was her life, and she lived for it. And I… I lived for her....
He was from China. His name was Wei. Wei wasn’t loud about his feelings. He showed them quietly, practically, in ways that made sense to him. He believed care was something you provided, not something you demanded. So when she complained on...
Everyone in our circle knew Arnold had been waiting for that concert. He talked about it for months—the lineup, the venue, the exact song he wanted to hear live. He saved money carefully, skipped nights out, said no to small pleasures just ...
