Unspoken, Until Now

Cameron's breath felt too thick to swallow. She could feel it building in her chest—heat, ache, truth. Her hands twitched at her sides, her fingertips numb with anticipation.

Jasmine stood in front of her, arms crossed, gaze steady. Waiting.

And that was the moment Cameron broke.

She had spent all day convincing herself this was the right thing to do, the right time. But now that the moment had come—now that Jasmine was standing there, close enough to touch—she felt like she might collapse under the weight of it.

Jasmine had always had that effect on her—pulling her apart without even realizing it. Just like now.

Cameron exhaled, voice low and unsteady. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Jasmine's eyebrows knit together. "Then what's been going on with you?"

Cameron looked down, her voice a whisper. "I don't even know where to start."

Jasmine's tone softened, coaxing now. "Then start anywhere."

Cameron let out a breathless, humorless laugh. "That's the problem, Jas. This doesn't have a neat beginning. I can't pinpoint the exact moment I started feeling this way."

She looked up.

And for the first time in what felt like years, she let it spill out.

"Maybe it was the second we met. Or maybe it was later—when I saw you smile at me that way only you do. Like I was someone worth looking at." Her throat tightened.

She inhaled sharply, clenching her fists before slowly releasing them, fingers flexing like she was grasping for something unseen.

"Maybe it was when I realized I could never really move on from you."

Jasmine's lips parted slightly, her posture softening, but she said nothing. Cameron took that as permission to keep going.

"I found other girls—so many other girls—just to prove to myself that I could move on. That I was over it. Over you." Her eyes shimmered with the tears she had no energy left to hide. "But every time I was with someone else, all I could think was—they're not you."

She let out a small, shaky breath, eyes locking on Jasmine's.

"I told myself I was over you so many times. But then you'd do something small—like text me at 2AM to tell me you saw a dog that reminded you of me—and suddenly, I was hopeless again. Completely yours. And too scared to admit it."

Her chest rose and fell, shallow and uneven.

"I can't keep pretending that I don't love you."

The words hit the air like a match in a dry field.

Jasmine blinked, but stayed silent.

"I can't act like this is just a phase. Or some obsession. Or something I'm supposed to grow out of," Cameron said, stepping forward, her voice trembling and low. "Because it's not. It's love. And it's been love—since the beginning. Through every version of you I've known."

Jasmine didn't move away.

So Cameron kept going.

"I know I'm messy. I know I've made mistakes. But I've spent years carving space for you in my life. I've bent myself into someone I barely recognize just to keep you near me."

She was crying now. Quiet, steady tears falling like rain, each drop heavier than the last.

"I don't know how to exist without loving you. I don't think I ever will."

She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, blinking through the fog of emotion.

"You don't have to say anything. You don't have to give me an answer. I just… I needed you to know. Because if I didn't tell you now, I never would."

Silence fell between them.

The kind that screams.

Cameron stood with her heart in her hands, expression raw and exposed, eyes pleading for something she couldn't name.

And Jasmine just stared at her.

Eyes wide. Brows drawn. Lips parted—but silent.

Cameron's breath quickened. And for the first time, she realized she was afraid. Not of rejection.

But of nothing.

Of Jasmine saying nothing at all. Of walking away. Of pretending like this moment never happened.

But there was no undoing it now.

She had finally said the thing that had haunted every breath of hers for years.

All that was left was to see what Jasmine would do with it.