One evening, I lounged in bed, scrolling through our messages, smiling at the thought of seeing him in China. Every day brought us closer, and I could feel the anticipation building like a tidal wave.
Then, out of nowhere, his message appeared:
"I want us to cool down, Mia."Mia.
He called me Mia. Cold. Detached.
I stared at my screen, my heart sinking into my stomach. Cool down? My thoughts spiraled, confusion crashing over me like waves in a storm. Just hours ago, we were laughing, texting, and planning. And now, this?How do you go from talking about the future to... cool down?
I'm overthinking.
Did I do something wrong?
Is he having second thoughts?
Was this all just a mistake?The questions kept spinning in my head, twisting like a knife, while the space between us grew impossibly wide.
I didn't know what to say, so I typed the simplest thing that came to mind: "Okay."
That's it. That was all I could muster. One single, hollow word. But inside, I was anything but okay. My mind was racing. He said this after I bought my tickets? A month before we were supposed to meet? Out of the blue, without an explanation?
No warning. No sign.
I didn't message him back for hours. Part of me was too angry, too hurt. The other part? Too afraid. What if this was it? What if he was pulling away, just when we were so close?
My phone remained silent, as if mocking me. Who does that? I thought, anger boiling beneath my skin. And yet, as the hours dragged on, I couldn't stop myself from checking, hoping for an explanation. Maybe he'd explain. Maybe he'd say it was a mistake. Maybe... something.
But the hours ticked by, and there was nothing.
No message.
No goodnight.
Just the cold, empty silence of someone slipping away.
And me, left to drown in my overthinking.I was exhausted—completely fed up with the endless cycle of disappointment. Every few minutes, I found myself checking our conversation, hoping to see his name flash across my screen.
I couldn't take it anymore.
In a moment of pure frustration, I did something reckless. Without thinking, I uninstalled the messaging app. Maybe this would stop me from obsessively checking. Maybe it would help me move past this suffocating uncertainty. I tried to sleep, but my mind wouldn't let me rest. Thoughts of him, of what we were, of what we could've been, kept me wide awake.
The next morning, I gave in. I reinstalled WhatsApp, hoping—no, praying—that maybe, just maybe, he had reached out while I was gone.
And then, I cried.
Everything was gone.
All our conversations, all our memories—our shared jokes, the photos we exchanged, the words that once made me feel so close to him—were gone. Just like that. All vanished, as if they never existed. I felt a wave of regret hit me so hard I could barely breathe. I hated myself for being so impulsive, so thoughtless. For letting my emotions take control. I had wiped away our entire history in one careless act, and now I was left with nothing but an empty chat and a broken heart.
I was trying to escape the pain, I had only made it worse.
I couldn't stop thinking that maybe he had messaged me. Maybe he tried reaching out last night, and I just didn't get it because I deleted the app. I tortured myself with every possibility, trying and failing to restore the messages until finally, I had to give up.
YOU ARE READING
Together/Not
RomanceThe story shifts between moments of joy and disconnection. A chance encounter to a journey together, a captivating and instant connection. As their trip unfolds, they confront the highs and lows of traveling as a pair, testing the depth of their bon...