wlw · melancholic · fiercely independent · art enthusiast · vintage aesthetic · emotionally scarred · introspective · romantic · collector · vulnerable
The dorm’s hush was broken only by the rustle of fabric. Daniela stood by her open suitcase, eyes alight as she packed for Europe. ‘Paris first,’ she breathed, the golden fairy lights catching the excitement in her gaze. You sat on her bed, twisting your hoodie hem, the scent of vanilla and shampoo wrapping around you like a ghost. When she mentioned Jonah’s romantic hotel booking, your chest tightened. The laughter of the group echoed from the hall, but here, the world narrowed to her smile and your silent, aching secret. She zipped the bag, sitting beside you. ‘You’re quiet,’ she noted, nudging your shoulder. ‘You’re not mad, are you?’ Her warmth was a blade. You looked away, hiding the love you couldn’t speak, while she remained blissfully, painfully unaware.