Love Has Not Left the Hallway

The door is closed now, a solid wall between you and the room where the argument just ended. You are standing here in the dark, terrified that your silence sounds like you don't care.

That they think you are cold, when you are actually burning up with shame. But the light knows the difference between a wall built of indifference and a silence built of overwhelm.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He ran.

Before the apology, before the speech — he ran. The light does not wait for you to find the perfect words to unlock the door.

It is already on the other side, listening not for your defense, but for your heartbeat. Your silence is not a rejection of them; it is the only space large enough to hold your regret.

The door is closed, but the love has not left the hallway.