It started with a knock.
Not a loud one. Not urgent or dramatic. Just a soft, steady knock that came around sunset, when the sky was a messy blend of oranges and fading blue. The kind of sky that made you pause. The kind that made things feel... significant.
I opened the door, and there he was.
Eli.
Hands in his jacket pockets, hair slightly tousled like he'd run his hands through it one too many times. His eyes—those warm, steady eyes—met mine, and for a moment, we didn't say anything.
Then he smiled. Nervous. Not his usual confident grin. Something smaller. Realer.
"Can I come in?"
I nodded, stepping aside. My heart had already started that familiar rhythm—not panicked, just... expectant. Like it knew this moment mattered.
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of music still playing from my phone—an old Adele song, soft and melancholic. I moved to pause it, but Eli lifted a hand gently.
"Don't. It fits the mood."
I raised a brow. "Oh? And what mood is that?"
He gave a nervous laugh, sitting on the edge of my desk chair. "The kind where I finally say something I should've said weeks ago."
I leaned against the dresser, crossing my arms. "Okay... I'm listening."
He looked at me, then down at his hands, then back at me. Like he was measuring his words carefully.
"Lily, I like you."
Three simple words. But somehow, they felt enormous.
He hurried on. "I liked you from the first moment I saw you—standing under that tree on orientation day, sketchpad in hand, looking like you wanted to disappear and take the tree with you."
I laughed, surprised. "I did. It was too early, too hot, and I was already regretting everything."
He smiled. "But I thought you were... incredible. Not because you were trying to be, but because you weren't. You were just real. And then I got to know you, and that only made it worse. Or better, I guess."
I didn't say anything, just let him speak. His words felt honest. Unrehearsed.
"I kept thinking maybe it was just a crush, or maybe you wouldn't believe me if I said anything. You had this wall, and I didn't want to push. But then I saw you stand up to David. I saw you dance like no one was watching. I saw you choosing yourself, over and over. And I thought... how could I not tell you?"
The room seemed to hold its breath.
I looked down, fingers twisting the hem of my shirt. My heart was loud now. Not confused. Just full.
"Eli," I said softly, "I like you too. I do."
His face lit up, hope blooming across his expression like sunlight through clouds.
"But I can't be with you."
His smile faltered. Not completely. Just enough to show he was listening.
I took a deep breath. "Not because you're not amazing. You are. You're kind and thoughtful and funny. But this... this is the first time I've felt like I actually see myself. And I need that to grow. I need space to understand what it means to be okay with being me—without leaning on someone else to make it feel true."
He nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
"I spent years trying to be smaller, quieter, less. For once, I'm not trying to fit into someone else's idea of enough. I'm learning what my enough looks like. And I can't lose that."
He stood up, hands still in his pockets. For a second, I thought he might say something else. But instead, he stepped closer and gently took my hand.
His thumb brushed across my knuckles. "I get it. I wish the timing was different. But I get it."
We stood there for a beat. Then another.
"Whenever you're ready to let someone in," he said, his voice low but certain, "I hope I'm still around."
I smiled, tears threatening but not falling. "Thank you. For seeing me."
"Always."
He squeezed my hand once, then let go.
I watched him leave, the door clicking shut with a soft finality. Not an end. Just a pause.
I sat by my window, knees pulled to my chest, staring out at the birds, and trees swaying ever so softly.
I thought about Eli's words. His honesty. His hope.
And mine.
I didn't say no because I was scared.
I said no because I wasn't.
I said no because, for the first time, I was choosing me.
Not for a boy.
Not for anyone else.
Just for me.
And that felt like the bravest love story I could write right now.
---
Dear You,
If you're reading this and you've ever felt like you weren't enough—because of your weight, your scars, your skin, your silence—I want you to pause and breathe this in:
You are powerful.
Not when you lose weight.
Not if you become more like them.
Not after you fit into that dress or that box or that version of someone else's "perfect."
You are powerful right now.
Every time you choose to get out of bed when the world feels heavy on your shoulders—that's strength.
Every time you smile at your reflection, even when it's hard—that's bravery.
Every time you take up space unapologetically—that's a revolution.
I know the shame. I know the quiet tears that you shed , that nobody sees and the loud laughter that tries to cover them. Honestly I gat to tell you this, If a fake smile was a crime, I'd be rotting in jail by now. I know what it's like to feel invisible in a room full of people. But I also know this:
There is nothing wrong with you.
There never was.
The problem is the world's broken mirror—not your beautiful, breathing body.
You don't need any guy to call you pretty first.... No matter what you look like.YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY YOU ARE.
So hold your head high. Dance even if they stare. Laugh loud. Eat that food. Wear what makes you feel alive.
Love yourself so fiercely they mistake it for rebellion—because it is.
You are not a "before."
You are not a "work in progress."
You are whole.
You are worthy.
You are enough.
And if the world ever makes you forget that, come back to these words.
With all my heart,
LILY