Dear Alex, I love you. Not like a friend. Not like a sister. I love you the way I loved you when we were fifteen and you held my hand during a thunderstorm. I love you the way I should have told you a thousand times. Please don’t go. Or if you go, take me with you.
And Alex, trusting her, stayed away.
And as she stepped out into the Dublin rain, she smiled — because loving someone wasn’t about perfect timing. It was about finally being brave enough to be late, rather than never arriving at all. rosie love rosie
The problem was never that they didn’t love each other. The problem was timing — a cruel, laughing villain. Dear Alex, I love you
He’d smiled, but his eyes stayed sad.
She ended it with Today .