You only ever saw the surface of me. And still, you almost drowned. Not because it was loud. Not because I overwhelmed you. But because even the quietest part of me carries a depth most people never ask about. I let you see the version I thought you could handle. Measured. Careful. The warmth without the fire. The gravity without the full pull. And even then, it shook you.

There was more – I promise you, there was more. But I kept it pressed behind my ribs, hidden under laughter, tucked into silences you never questioned. Not because I didn’t want to give it to you, but because I cared too much to watch you collapse under it. I wanted you to stay. So I softened every edge and swallowed every almost.

And still… you nearly drowned.