Page 78 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
The things he’stoldme.
And the things he hasn’t.
The life he lived before he found me.
The roads paved with bodies and fire and choices that no one writes poems about.
The things he’s done to protect people hewasn’tgoing to keep.
The price of that life isn’t something you hang on a corporate wall.
Or explain to someone whose world runs on spreadsheets and predictions and quarterly earnings.
It’s something darker.
He doesn’t finish the sentence.
But Iknowwhat’s there.
I see it in his eyes.
The weight of unspoken violence.
The hard edge of survival etched into every line of his face.
The way his jaw tightens — not in anger — but memory.
And suddenly, everything Iwantedfrom him feels impossible.
I don’t know how to bridge the world between us.
I thought I did.
But now I see:
I was wrong.
I step back.
Not out of retreat.
But out of clarity.
A heartbreak like this isn’t a retreat.
It’s adecision.
“I hear your words,” I say, keeping my voice steady even though every part of me feels shattered, “but I can’t be half a life. I can’t be the one you talk to when it’s easy and ignore when it gets dark.”
He doesn’t respond.
I don’t wait for one.
“I love you,” I continue — and these words are not soft, not apologetic. They’re the trembling kind of truth that thunders in the chest. “That doesn’t mean I can live in fragments of you. Not when the parts you refuse to share are the ones shaping our lives.”
I turn away.
My office feels too small.
