The world is full of them. Tired people. Beautiful, sharp-edged people. People who’ve walked through fire with nothing but grit and sheer will keeping them upright. People who were told love had a timeline, an expiration date, a dress code. They believed it once. They tried. They offered everything — their time, their trust, their softness — And for that, they were left bleeding. So they stopped. Closed shop. Said, “I’m done with that.” Love is for the young. Love is for the

by Saj I waited for the cavalry once, not the kind with white horses and polished steel, but the quieter kind. Hands that would catch me before I fell. A voice saying, “I’ve got you. Rest.” Someone who’d finally step forward and say, “Enough. I’ll carry this part.” But the horizon stayed empty. And the walls kept leaning in. And the smallness of every room I’ve hidden in kept echoing back my own breath. So I learned. I learned that I am my own cavalry. That the exha