"She said she's the problem and not me, like what cheap excuse," Maxwell complained to Agatha as he sat hopelessly in his couch, feeling like a loser. "I'm just so unlucky when it comes to love."
"Or you're just so insensitive to the one who truly loves you," Agatha replied bluntly, and that got his attention, but she was already gone. He brushed it off immediately, his mind too occupied with the current heartbreak to think about anything else.
Maxwell was a lonely guy, whose heart yearned for love. He'd searched for love in every corner, but all he ever got was rejection, and more of it. He wanted nothing more than to be loved by someone he loves.
Maxwell laid down in bed one afternoon, listening to a love song. He smiled subconsciously to every lyrics, and then he realized something — all the while, he'd only thought of Agatha; his best friend.
He didn't need to find love after all, because the love of his life was right there all along, staring at him in the face.
