One in 7 Billion, But Not the Same One

He always believed love would feel like fireworks.

Loud. Bright. Unforgettable.

And when he met her, it did.

Everything about her felt like a rare alignment of stars.

Her smile—his compass. Her silence—his peace.

She wasn’t just another person.

She was the person.

In a world of 7 billion, she was his one.

The kind you don’t find twice.

The kind who turns your world into a place you never want to escape.

He loved her with a kind of madness people write books about.

Fierce. Loyal. Unapologetically deep.

He memorized her laugh, her little eye rolls, her midnight thoughts.

He knew how she liked her coffee and how she hated goodbyes.

But for her…

He was just one in 7 billion.

Just someone who answered texts too fast, cared too loudly, and stayed too long.

She never asked him to leave.

But she never gave him a reason to stay either.

She liked the way he made her feel.

Adored. Wanted.

But not enough to give the same back.

Not enough to fight for him the way he fought for her.

He mistook her confusion for depth.

Her inconsistency for mystery.

Her silence for something poetic.

But maybe,

she just didn’t love him.

And here’s the brutal truth:

It wasn’t miscommunication.

It wasn’t bad timing.

It wasn’t the universe playing tricks.

It was choice.

Her choice.

He chose her like a religion.

She chose him like a backup plan.

And now,

he’s done being soft in a world that mistreats softness.

Done pretending that his feelings weren’t real just because hers weren’t mutual.

So no—he won’t wish her well in silence anymore.

He won’t romanticize what never existed.

He won’t play the “maybe one day” game.

Because for him, she was the one in 7 billion.

But he refuses to be anyone’s “just one.”

He’s not bitter.

He’s not broken.

He’s just done.

With loving people who don’t choose him back.

With shrinking himself for someone else’s comfort.

With begging to be seen.

Because if she couldn’t see his worth,

that’s her loss, not his reflection.

And maybe next time,

he’ll be someone’s one in 7 billion—

and they’ll be his,

at the same damn time.