A one-sided love

Nathan sat at the kitchen table, absently pushing his fork through the cold pasta he had made hours ago. His appetite had disappeared the moment Olivia's text came in.

The candle on the table, once burning warmly, had melted into a pathetic pool of wax. He had set everything up for a nice evening—a homemade dinner, wine, even soft music playing in the background. He had wanted a night where it was just the two of them, a chance to reconnect. But like always, Olivia had something more important to do.

He checked his phone. No new messages. No apology. No "I'll make it up to you." Just silence.

Nathan exhaled sharply and picked up his phone. He stared at the text thread with Olivia, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Should he say something? Should he tell her that this was hurting him? That he was tired of feeling like an afterthought?

He started typing.

"Olivia, I'm really getting tired of this. It feels like you don't care about our time together."

He stared at the words. They felt heavy. Honest. He hesitated, then deleted the message.

Instead, he typed:

"Okay. Hope everything's fine with Daniel."

Then he set his phone down, hating himself for how easily he let it go.

Her World, Her Rules

Nathan knew how it would go if he confronted Olivia. He had tried before.

One night, months ago, after she had bailed on another date to "be there for Daniel," he had told her how he felt.

"It just feels like you put everyone else before me," he had said.

Olivia had sighed dramatically. "Nathan, I don't get why you're making this a big deal. Daniel's my best friend. When people need me, I show up for them. Isn't that what a good person does?"

"Yeah, but what about when I need you?" he had asked.

She had rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, Nathan. Are you really jealous of Daniel? That's so insecure."

And just like that, he had become the problem.

Nathan learned quickly that when Olivia was upset, she expected comfort. But when he was upset, he was "being dramatic."

She could spend hours talking about how her boss stressed her out, how her coworkers annoyed her, how Daniel had another fight with his girlfriend. But if Nathan tried to vent about his own stress, she'd cut him off with:

"Ugh, I can't deal with negativity right now."

It was always about her.

And the worst part? Nathan didn't even think she realized it.

She just lived in a world where her emotions mattered more than his.

Eric's Words Echo

Nathan stood up, tossing his untouched food into the trash. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked to his small apartment balcony. The night air was cool, the city lights stretching out before him.

Eric's words from earlier replayed in his head.

"When's the last time she made you feel like a priority?"

Nathan wanted to argue. To say, Of course Olivia loves me. Of course I matter to her. But if love was measured in actions instead of words…

Then maybe the answer was different.

He took a sip of his beer, closing his eyes.

How had he gotten here? How had he become the guy who made excuses for a woman who never made time for him?

When they first started dating, Olivia had been so warm. She had made him feel special, like he was someone worth cherishing. But somewhere along the way, the effort had stopped. The little things—the random texts just to say "I miss you," the way she used to get excited to see him—were gone.

Now, he was just… there.

Always waiting. Always understanding. Always patient.

But never prioritized.

A Late-Night Realization

Nathan's phone buzzed. He grabbed it quickly, hoping—stupidly hoping—that it was Olivia. Maybe she had realized she had hurt him. Maybe she wanted to make it right.

But it wasn't her.

It was Eric.

Eric: Dude, you good?

Nathan stared at the screen. Was he?

He exhaled sharply and typed back:

Nathan: Yeah, just thinking.

A moment later, Eric responded.

Eric: Thinking about how much BS you're putting up with?

Nathan huffed out a dry laugh. Damn, this guy knew him too well.

He wanted to defend Olivia. To say that she wasn't that bad. That she was just stressed, or distracted, or—something.

But for once, Nathan didn't have the energy to lie to himself.

Instead, he typed:

Nathan: Yeah, man. I think I'm done pretending this is okay.

And for the first time in a long time, he actually meant it.