A Love Story

Chapter 11

Philip

I stare at my phone, the screen glowing in the dim light of my room. Her last message sits unread. I can’t bring myself to open it, not yet. I know it’ll be full of the same words—words that try to make the distance between us feel smaller. But tonight, it feels too wide, like an ocean that’s too deep to cross.

Kryzella is miles away. Every day, the gap between us seems to grow. I miss her laugh, her smile, the way she looks at me when she’s trying to understand what I’m really thinking. The texts, the calls—they help, but they’re not enough. Not anymore.

I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. My fingers grip the strands, tugging. Why does this have to be so hard? We knew it wouldn’t be easy when she left. We promised we’d make it work. But now, I’m not so sure. I can feel the strain, the tension pulling us apart.

I grab my phone and finally open her message.

“Hey, bubs. How was your day? I miss you so much. Wish we could talk more…”

Her words tug at my heart. I sigh. She’s trying. We both are. But there’s only so much words on a screen can do. I type out a quick reply, trying to sound upbeat, even though I don’t feel it.

“Hey, bubs. It was fine. Just work and stuff. I miss you too. Can we call later?”

I hit send and stare at the phone, waiting for the dots that show she’s typing. My thumb taps the edge of the screen, nervous. But nothing. Maybe she’s busy. Or maybe she’s just as tired as I am of pretending everything is okay.

I stand and walk over to the window, leaning against the cool glass. The night outside is quiet, almost too quiet. She’s out there somewhere, living her life without me. I wonder what she’s doing right now. Is she thinking about me? Or is she finding new things to fill the space where I used to be?

My chest tightens at the thought. I shake my head, trying to push it away, but it lingers like a shadow.

The phone buzzes in my hand. Her reply comes through.

“Sure. Let me finish up here. I’ll call you in a bit.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. I toss the phone onto the bed and sit down, feeling the weight of the distance between us pressing down on me. It wasn’t always like this. We used to be so close, always in sync. But now, I don’t know. The physical distance is becoming emotional too.

I remember when we’d spend hours just talking, laughing until our sides hurt. Those nights seem so far away now, like a memory I can’t quite reach.

When we do talk, it’s strained. We don’t have much to say anymore. I ask her about her day; she asks me about mine. We talk about the future, about when we’ll finally be together again. But it feels so far away, like a dream that’s slipping through my fingers.

I miss the way things were. I miss *her*. But more than that, I miss *us*—the way we used to be, before this distance crept in and started pulling us apart.

The phone rings, and her name lights up the screen. I take a deep breath and answer.

“Hey, bubs.”

“Hey, bubs.”

We start off with the usual pleasantries, but the conversation quickly takes a turn. Her tone is sharp, her words clipped.

“You know, I feel like you’re just going through the motions with me. I don’t understand why you seem so distant lately.”

“What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I? I’m doing everything I can to make this work.”

“Barely. It feels like you’re just waiting for me to get tired of this. I’m putting so much into this relationship, and I don’t even know if it’s worth it for you.”

I feel a pang of anger. “Is that really what you think? Because I’m not jumping through hoops to prove my love for you? I’m just tired, too, Kryzella. This is hard for both of us.”

Her voice rises. “You think I don’t know that? I’m the one living in a new place, away from everything I know. I thought we were in this together. But lately, it feels like I’m carrying the weight of this relationship on my own.”

“I’m not saying you’re alone. But it’s not just me who’s struggling. You’re not the only one making sacrifices.”

There’s a silence on the other end. I can hear her breathing heavily, and it stings more than I expected.

“I’m sorry if I’m not enough, but I’m just so tired of fighting all the time. It feels like every call ends in an argument.”

I don’t have a good response. The silence stretches, heavy and painful. It’s the same silence that’s been growing between us, and it’s starting to feel unbearable.

“I don’t want to fight,  just want us to be okay. But I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Me neither."

We both fall into a heavy silence. It’s not the comforting silence of companionship but the oppressive silence of unresolved issues and unspoken fears.

“I guess we should just go to bed."

"Yeah."

I hesitate, hoping for something more, something that could bridge this growing distance.

“Kryzella… I really do miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“Maybe tomorrow will be better."

“Maybe.”

Another pause stretches out, neither of us wanting to end the call, but knowing we have to.

“Goodnight,”

“Goodnight,”

We say goodnight, but it doesn’t feel like it used to. It feels like we’re saying goodbye. I hang up the phone and lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The room feels empty, and so do I.

I want to believe we’ll be okay, that we can get through this. But as the night wears on, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re drifting further and further apart. And I don’t know if we can find our way back to each other.