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The Boundary I Refused to See
Learning the cost of unacknowledged feelings
In the winter twilight of Norway, a confession from a friend forced me to see what I had been ignoring for months.
“This isn’t working,” said Elira, her eyes fixed on the coffee cup between her hands. Light from the café window illuminated half her face, casting the other in shadow. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Her words struck me like cold water. I was genuinely confused. We were just friends — great friends. Colleagues who’d become close. Nothing inappropriate had happened between us. What wasn’t working?
“I don’t understand,” I said, leaning forward. “Did I do something wrong?”
The question hung in the air as she gathered her thoughts. Outside, students hurried across the university courtyard, their breath visible in the Norwegian cold. Inside, the café hummed with conversations in multiple languages, none as uncomfortable as ours.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said finally. “But I’ve never had a male friend before, and I don’t know how to… how to have the kind of friendship you want without feeling guilty.”
That’s when I saw it — the boundary I had been blindly trampling for months.
