At the Edge of Lips

She loved him in silence.

He was her best friend—always had been. She listened to his late-night complaints by the counter in the dimly lit tavern, cheered for his victories at the weekend matches, and swallowed every “I love you” that almost slipped from her lips.

When the chatter around them softened, he laughed over their shared meal at a long wooden table. She watched him, tracing the curve of his smile as she reached for her glass. She whispered, “Do you ever wonder if we could be more?”

He froze, chopsticks hovering above her empty plate. He exhaled, shoulders sagging as if a silent burden had lifted.

“I’ve been hoping one day you’d say that.”