When Heart Breaks!

Honey For The Heart - 3

Pooh sat on the old wooden log, shoulders heavy, eyes cloudy like the greyest sky before rain fell. His paws rested quietly in his lap. He didn’t fidget. Didn’t reach for honey. Didn’t hum his usual beary-ful tune.
He just… sat.
Still.
Quiet as a breath that’s forgotten it’s allowed to exhale.
“I think,” he said slowly, as if the words had to tiptoe out of him, “I’m broken.”

Piglet tilted his head. “Broken?”

Pooh nodded, just once. “Not like the honey jar — that sort of breaking is loud and sticky. This is different. More like… something inside me shattered into thousand pieces when no one was looking. And now I’m just… sitting in the silence of it.”

Piglet took a careful step closer, his tiny feet crunching softly on the fallen leaves.
“And what does it sound like?” he asked in a whisper.

Pooh looked up. His eyes moist but holding back the tears.
“It doesn’t sound like anything. That’s the worst part.
No crash, no thunder.
Just… a quiet so loud it drowns everything else in its stillness.”

Piglet sat beside him, close enough for the sadness to lean on.
“I think hearts break like that sometimes,” Piglet said, his voice smaller than usual, “like snowfall instead of storms — silent, but cold.”

Pooh blinked back the tears that welled.
“Then why does it feel like it should’ve shaken the whole forest?”

Piglet reached for his friend’s paw.
“Because it did,” he said. “Not all quakes can be heard by ears. Some are only felt by hearts that beat next to yours.”

They sat in that hushed silence together.
Not trying to fill it.
Not trying to fix it.
Just… being.

Two souls wrapped in one shared silence.

And slowly — very slowly — the air around them began to soften.
Not because the pain was gone,
but because it was shared.

“I don’t know what comes next,” Pooh whispered.

“You don’t have to,” Piglet replied, gently squeezing his paw.
“I’ll be right here — until your pieces remember how to belong to each other again.”