Love stood there, with its heart still open,

not to say goodbye,

but to promise:

I will stay.

It did not walk away; it rooted itself deeper, quietly anchoring in the soul, becoming the unseen strength behind every broken breath.

It did not demand to be chosen.

It did not beg to be loved in return.

It simply was — silently, stubbornly — a devotion that no rejection, no distance, no silence could kill.

It stayed because it knew no other way to exist.

They said to let go.

They said to move on.

But love laughed at their words, a sad, aching laugh,

because real love doesn’t understand endings.

It doesn’t vanish when ignored.

It doesn't fade when overlooked.

It lingers like the prayer whispered in the dark,

like the trembling candle fighting against the storm.

This love — my love — did not curse him for not choosing me.

It did not hold anger in its trembling hands.

It simply knelt before his existence,

worshiping him with every shattered piece left inside me.

I loved him with the kind of purity that asked for nothing,

with the kind of loyalty that stayed through silence, through cold, through nights where my hands ached to reach for him but didn’t.

Because it was never about possession.

It was about presence.

He was my moon, my stars, my air, my prayer.

And even if his heart belonged to another,

even if his smile was no longer mine to protect,

I loved — not less, not differently — but more fiercely, more quietly.

It hurt. God, it hurt.

To watch him call her name,

to hear him speak of another with tenderness,

while I folded my own heart into smaller and smaller pieces,

hiding the worship he would never need.

But still, love stayed.

It stayed because it wasn't about being seen.

It stayed because it wasn't about being chosen.

It stayed because it was truth — raw, brutal, holy.

And in the loneliest hours,

when the world fell silent and only my own breath could answer me,

I still smiled — because I had loved.

I had loved without conditions.

I had loved without reward.

I had loved in a way that even pain could not erase.

He may never know the wars I fought inside me just to keep loving him kindly.

He may never understand the thousand times I let my heart bleed in silence just so he could live in peace.

But that is okay.

Because true love does not demand understanding.

It does not threaten.

It does not break promises made in the language of the soul.

It simply stays.

It stays like a quiet guardian, a sacred secret,

a prayer stitched into the very skin of existence.

And so I stayed.

I stay still.

With love.

With worship.

With a heart that, even broken, still beats his name like a hymn.

A worship that can never be forgotten, undone.

A love that becomes the reason of your life.

Je le choisis pour l'éternité..