There were parts of me I kept untouched, not because they were dangerous, but because they belonged to another time. You knew the version of me that could sit beside you quietly and answer every question without giving away the whole shape of the answer. You knew the names I mentioned casually, the places I said I had been, and the stories that sounded complete because I knew where to stop. I never lied to you, but there were rooms inside me I had already closed before you ever arrived. Some things remain private even in love, and some histories survive without asking to be understood. What I didnโt tell you was never meant to become a wound between us. Some things still belonged to the woman I was before I learned how much of myself I could safely give away. What I didnโt tell you had its own weight, its own language, and its own reasons for staying where it was. You knew me deeply, but no one is ever known all the way.
