Chapter 1
📖 Chapter 1:
LEFT ON READ
“He left me on read”
But silence taught me how to glow”
🕯️A story of heartbreak , healing & becoming the version of me i was afraid to be
⛓️💥Read my story.feel my truth
Three guys.
One year.
Each time, it felt like maybe… just maybe, this one would stay.
Ivvy didn’t fall fast — she just hoped hard. And when someone showed her a little kindness, saw her behind the quiet smile, she let herself believe it might be real.
The late-night chats. The compliments. The “I like how soft you are.”
They always started the same.
And then… boom.
Nothing.
No fight. No goodbye. Just silence — like she’d been erased.
She used to replay every conversation in her head, wondering what she said wrong, what part of her made them leave. Now, she just let the silence sit. It didn’t hurt less — it just felt… expected.
But there was one she still thought about.
He wasn’t like the rest.
He didn’t rush her. Didn’t pressure her to be more than she was ready for.
He made her laugh, listened like he meant it, and for the first time in years…
She let him see her. All of her.
Physically. Emotionally.
He made her feel like her scar wasn’t ugly.
Like she wasn’t broken — just healing.
And still… he left too.
No excuse. Just distance.
One day, the texts slowed. The calls stopped.
Another quiet ending.
But he was the one who made her believe maybe love could be soft, not scary.
He made her stop flinching when someone’s hand slid under her shirt.
He made her feel beautiful without clothes on — like her body wasn’t something to hide.
And maybe that’s why it hurt the most.
Not because he left.
But because he gave her hope — then reminded her why she never let anyone in to begin with.
Ivvy sat up in bed, hugging her pillow, whispering the same words she had repeated for months:
“Next time, I’ll leave first.”
She didn’t want to be bitter.
She didn’t want to close her heart.
But she was done bleeding for people who never stayed to clean it up.
This time… she’d rebuild on her own.
No more “almosts.” No more “maybes.”
Just Ivvy, and the glow-up no one saw coming.
Chapter 2 – “Thirteen Pages Of Silence”
The room was quiet—too quiet.
Ivvy sat on the edge of her bed, the same bed she’d had since she was twelve. The fabric on the headboard was peeling, the springs in the mattress groaned with every shift, but she kept it because it was hers. A tiny universe where her hurt lived safely out of sight.
Outside, city lights blinked like they were trying to reach her. Inside, only her bedside lamp flickered — tired, yellow, soft. It felt like even the bulb was weary of pretending everything was okay.
Her fingers hovered over the drawer.
She hadn’t opened it in months.
But tonight, something pulled her back.
The journal lay untouched under old sketchbooks and wrinkled papers. The leather cover was cracked at the edges — a gift from a counselor she never went back to. She slid it open and thumbed through pages like muscle memory. She stopped at one that had faded ink and a small tear at the top.
“September 3, 2014. Age 12.”.
Ivvy closed the book.
Not to forget — just to breathe.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror across the room. Older now. Softer face, sharper eyes. Dressed in an oversized tee and shorts, but her beauty peeked through — that effortless kind that didn’t try to be noticed.
But the pain? That was loud.
She picked up a pen and flipped to a blank page. No date this time.
Just truth.
I don’t need rescuing
Not a prince,not a hero
Just someone who won’t disappear
when the silence grows sharp.
Someone who won’t flinch at the truth I carry
-
Scars, limp, walls and all
Ive been my own lifeline since 12
I’ve learned how to bleed quitely
But God, it would be nice to rest
Just once.
And not to be abandoned for it
She dropped the pen.
Her phone buzzed beside her. She glanced.
A message
“Hey… Just wanted to say i think we’re not on the same page you’re cool though.”
Ivvy didn’t react. Not with tears. Not with anger.
She’d lost count of how many boys had texted a version of that. Each one seemed to say “You’re too much.”
Too broken. Too quiet. Too strong. Too soft.
She locked the phone. No reply.
She walked to the mirror again, stood straighter this time.
Her voice low, but steady:
I don’t need rescuing
Just someone who stays…
When the silence gets too loud
