My heart cries tonight, not in silence but in aching waves that echo through every corner of my soul. I can still see him — adorable David — with that innocent smile that could heal any sadness, the kind of smile that made the world feel light again. But tonight, I am helpless. I can’t help him. I’m not allowed.
The rules were clear, the boundaries unbreakable. “You must stay away,” they said. “It’s for his own good.” But how could love ever be wrong? How could caring too much become a sin? I never meant to break any rules; I only wanted to see him happy, safe, and free from pain. Yet now, as he suffers, all I can do is whisper my prayers to the wind, hoping somehow they’ll reach him.
David came into my life like a spark in the darkness — fragile, bright, and full of hope. He wasn’t like anyone else. His laughter had a melody of its own, and his eyes carried stories too deep for someone so young. Everyone who met him called him “adorable David,” and they were right. He was the kind of soul who made you believe in goodness again.
But life is cruel to the gentle ones. The world doesn’t always protect its purest hearts. Somewhere along the way, David’s light began to fade. He tried to stay strong, smiling even when he was hurting. “I’m okay,” he would say, but his trembling voice told the truth his lips couldn’t. I saw the weight he carried — the loneliness, the confusion, the invisible chains that held him back.
And then came the day when I was told to leave. To step away. To let him face it alone. I remember that moment vividly — the cold air, the sound of rain against the window, the words that broke me. “You can’t help him anymore.” I begged, I pleaded, but the answer remained the same.
Now I live with the memory of his eyes — those big, trusting eyes looking up at me one last time, silently asking, Why? I had no answer then, and I have none now. Only the truth that burns in my heart: I would have done anything to save him. Anything.
“Wish you better, 1097.” That was the message I wrote on the letter I could never send. The number wasn’t random; it was the time on the clock when I last saw him — 10:97, if such a time existed. It was the moment when time stopped for me. The moment when goodbye became forever.
People say time heals all wounds, but they don’t know this kind of wound. This one doesn’t heal; it just changes shape. Some days it feels like a dull ache; other days, it’s a storm that tears through me without warning. Every song, every quiet night, every child’s laughter brings him back — my adorable David, the boy with the sunshine smile.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, I hold onto hope — fragile but alive. Maybe he found peace. Maybe he’s safe now. Maybe one day, when all is forgiven, when all the barriers are gone, I’ll see him again. Until then, I carry his memory like a small flame in the dark — a reminder that love, even when it cannot save, still matters.
So tonight, my heart cries, not from weakness but from love that refuses to die. Adorable David, wherever you are — I’m still wishing you better. Always.
