On the same night, beside the same fire

He lit the small stove in his room that night.

The solid fuel caught quietly,
and a faint light trembled in the corner of the room.

Steam rose.

Beyond its whiteness,
he thought he heard her voice.

“Don’t push yourself.”

His chest
slowly sank.

On that same night,
she lit her stove.

The small flame
softly illuminated the dark walls.

The steam wavered.

Beyond it,
she thought she heard his voice.

“Are you sleeping well?”

Her chest
quietly ached.

He thought:

Back then,
using busyness as an excuse,
using shyness as an excuse,
using the fear of showing weakness as a small pride—

he couldn’t accept her warmth.

The steam wavered.

Its movement
brought her expression back to him.

She thought:

Back then,
using stubbornness as an excuse,
using the fear of being a burden as an excuse,
using the pride of hiding her weakness—

she couldn’t accept his words.

The steam wavered.

Its movement
brought his profile back to her.

He thought:

Only now do I understand.

Those words
were small lights
meant to protect me.

How deeply he had been loved.
How precious he had been.

The warmth of the fire
spread through his chest.

She thought:

Only now do I understand.

Those words
were quiet warmth
meant to care for her.

How deeply she had been loved.
How much she had been supported.

The flicker of the fire
lit her chest.

He let fall
unspoken words
toward the steam.

“Thank you.
I’m sorry I realized it too late.”

The moment they touched the steam,
they melted away.

She whispered
toward the steam.

“Thank you.
I wish I had been more honest.”

The moment her voice touched the steam,
it quietly disappeared.

In different places,
on the same night,
looking at the same fire,
they touched
the same regret
and the same warmth.

Only the fire,
like the warmth they had left behind,

quietly swayed.

Love does not reach unless it is received.
People notice warmth only after losing it.
Stubbornness pushes love away.
Love is felt more in presence than in words.
Regret quietly makes people gentle.
Love withers if not received while it is still there.

ToEbe.

Toward the quiet spaces.