Why she is not loviong me..

 Maya used to believe that love had a sound.

Not music. Not poetry. Just the small sounds people make when they care. The pause before saying your name. The soft laugh during late-night calls. The way someone breathes differently when they see you.

And Lena had all those sounds.

That was the problem.

Every evening after college, Maya waited at the tea stall near the old library. Lena always arrived late, hair messy from the wind, oversized hoodie slipping from one shoulder, smiling like the world had never hurt her.

“You waited again?” Lena asked one evening.

Maya shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re late.”

Lena laughed and stole fries from Maya’s plate. That laugh stayed in Maya’s chest for hours.

Everyone thought they were inseparable best friends. They shared notes, secrets, playlists, and sometimes silence. The kind of silence that only exists between people who know each other too well.

But Maya loved Lena in ways friendship could never explain.

She loved the scar near Lena’s eyebrow. The way she pretended to hate romantic movies but cried at every ending. The way she always held Maya’s wrist while crossing roads, even empty ones.

Maya never planned to fall in love with her.

It just happened slowly.

Like rain filling cracks in the ground.

One night, during a power cut, they sat on Lena’s rooftop under candlelight. The city glowed faintly around them.

“Do you think people can stop loving someone if they want to?” Maya asked quietly.

Lena looked up at the stars. “I think they can pretend.”

That answer destroyed Maya more than it should have.

Because she had been pretending for two years.

Pretending that every accidental touch didn’t make her heart race. Pretending she didn’t replay Lena’s voice before sleeping. Pretending friendship was enough.

But it wasn’t.

Not anymore.

A week later, Maya finally gathered courage.

They were sitting in the college auditorium after everyone left. Dust floated in golden evening light. Lena was sketching in her notebook while humming softly.

Maya’s hands trembled.

“Lena?”

“Hm?”

“I need to tell you something.”

Lena looked up immediately. “You sound serious.”

Maya swallowed hard. “I think… I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

Not movie silence.

Real silence.

Heavy. Sharp. Breathing silence.

Lena’s smile disappeared slowly, like sunlight fading from a room.

“Maya…”

“I know it’s stupid,” Maya rushed. “You don’t have to say anything. I just—I couldn’t keep lying anymore.”

Lena closed her notebook carefully.

“You’re my favorite person,” she whispered.

The word favorite felt like a knife.

“But?”

Lena looked away. “But I don’t love you like that.”

Maya felt her heartbeat stumble.

“Is it because I’m a girl?”

“No!” Lena said quickly. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then why?”

Lena’s eyes filled with guilt. “Because sometimes love doesn’t happen equally.”

That sentence stayed inside Maya for months.

Sometimes love doesn’t happen equally.

After that day, everything changed.

Not suddenly.

Worse.

Slowly.

Lena still texted her good morning. Still shared memes. Still asked if she had eaten. But there was distance now, invisible and painful.

Maya noticed every inch of it.

The hugs became shorter.

The eye contact weaker.

The late-night calls stopped first.

Then the rooftop talks.

Then came the worst part—watching Lena try not to hurt her.

People think rejection is the hardest thing.

It isn’t.

The hardest thing is when someone still cares about you… but not enough to love you back.

One rainy evening, Maya saw Lena standing outside campus with a girl from literature class. The girl tucked wet hair behind Lena’s ear while laughing.

Lena smiled differently with her.

Softer.

Warmer.

In love.

Maya walked away before they saw her.

That night she cried for the first time in years.

Not dramatic crying.

The quiet kind.

The kind where you stare at the ceiling and feel your chest physically aching.

She stopped attending classes for three days.

When she finally returned, Lena cornered her near the staircase.

“You disappeared.”

“I was busy.”

“You’re lying.”

Maya looked exhausted. “What do you want me to say?”

Lena’s voice broke slightly. “I miss you.”

Maya laughed bitterly. “You miss the version of me that loved you silently.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” Maya whispered. “What’s unfair is loving someone who looks at you and still chooses someone else.”

Lena flinched.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Lena asked the question Maya feared most.

“Do you hate me?”

Maya stared at her for a long time.

“No,” she said finally. “That’s the problem.”

Months passed.

Winter arrived.

Life continued because it always does, even when hearts stay behind.

Maya slowly learned how to exist without waiting for Lena’s messages. She made new friends. Started writing poetry again. Smiled more genuinely.

But some loves never fully leave.

They become quieter.

One evening, Maya performed at an open mic café downtown. Her hands shook as she read a piece titled “The Girl Who Stayed.”

The room fell silent.

It wasn’t really poetry.

It was grief with pretty words.

After the event ended, Maya stepped outside into cold air.

And froze.

Lena stood across the street.

Holding flowers.

For one dangerous second, Maya’s heart imagined impossible things.

Maybe she changed her mind.

Maybe she realized.

Maybe—

“You were amazing,” Lena said softly, walking closer.

“Thanks.”

They stood awkwardly beneath streetlights.

Lena handed her the flowers. “I’m moving to another city next month.”

The words hit harder than expected.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to tell you myself.”

Maya nodded slowly.

Lena looked nervous. “Can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“Did you ever regret loving me?”

Maya looked at her carefully.

This girl had been her safest place and deepest wound at the same time.

And somehow, despite everything, she still loved her.

Maybe she always would a little.

“No,” Maya answered honestly. “I only regret that it hurt so much.”

Lena’s eyes turned glossy.

“I never wanted to break your heart.”

“I know.”

“Then why do I feel like the villain in your story?”

Maya smiled sadly.

“Because you were the hero in mine.”

Lena started crying then.

Real crying.

And strangely, Maya felt peaceful.

Not because Lena finally understood her pain.

But because for the first time, Maya realized something important:

Love is not owed just because it is pure.

Sometimes people can adore your soul and still not belong to you.

And that doesn’t make your love meaningless.

It makes it human.

A bus arrived nearby.

Lena wiped her tears. “Goodbye, Maya.”

Maya held the flowers tightly.

“Goodbye.”

She watched Lena walk away into the winter crowd until she disappeared completely.

And even then, Maya stayed standing there.

Not broken anymore.

Just healing.

Slowly.

Like rain leaving the earth after a storm.