Daniel had always been close to Jake. They'd grown up together, survived college together, and now, as adults, they were practically family. When Jake married Emily, Daniel stood beside him as his best man, genuinely happy for his friend.
But over the years, something changed.
It wasn't sudden. It was in the little things—how Emily laughed at his terrible jokes, the way she listened when he spoke, how she always seemed to know what he needed before he even said a word. He told himself it was nothing, just admiration for a good woman. But admiration turned into stolen glances, then lingering thoughts.
One evening, Jake was away on business, and Daniel stopped by to drop off something he'd borrowed. Emily invited him in, and they sat in the dimly lit living room, talking about everything and nothing.
"Sometimes, I feel like you're the only one who really sees me," Emily admitted, her voice soft.
Daniel swallowed hard. "You are seen, Emily. You always have been."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with things they couldn't say.
He wanted to tell her. He wanted to confess that every time she smiled, his heart ached in ways he couldn’t explain. But she wasn’t his to love. And so, he simply smiled, swallowed his feelings, and walked away—because sometimes, love meant choosing silence over selfishness.