I’ll remember.
And I’ll leave.

That night, you asked me to forget someone called Yessmin. I heard you. I won’t turn those words into another reason to try.

You never promised me love. I kept hoping that time, care, or one more conversation could change what you felt. After more than two years, I have to accept that love cannot be earned by refusing to leave.

I’ll remember the day we recorded at the factory. The little things. The future I imagined. They mattered to me, even though they weren’t a promise.

I can’t erase what I felt. But I can respect what you asked. No more reaching out. No more waiting for a different answer.

This is where I let you be.
And where I start coming back to myself.