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RYLEE HANSON (narrative)
The morning after the game, I woke up to silence—not just in my apartment, but in my heart. Nika hadn't responded to any of my texts or calls, and her absence felt like a weight pressing down on my chest.
I stared at my phone, scrolling through the messages I'd sent her.
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My Everything ————————————————————————
I don't know what's going on, but I'm sorry if I did something wrong. Please talk to me. I'm worried about you.
Nika, are you okay? Please talk to me I'm so sorry
Not a single reply. It wasn't like her to ignore me, and the longer it went on, the more my chest tightened with worry. I sat at the edge of my bed, gripping the phone in one hand and running my other hand through my hair.
I'd hurt her—that much was obvious—but how? What had I done that pushed her away so completely?
I needed to figure it out. And I needed to fix it.
Step One: Write it all down
I grabbed the notebook off my desk and sat cross-legged on the floor. Writing wasn't my strong suit—I could rattle off plays or strategies with no problem, but when it came to feelings, my brain always got tangled up. Still, I knew I had to try. Nika deserved that much.
After staring at the blank page for way too long, I started writing.
Dear Nika,
I know I've done something to upset you, and I hate that I don't know what it is. I hate that I hurt you, even unintentionally, because the last thing I ever want is to make you feel anything less than loved.
You're everything to me, Nika. I hope you know that. I don't just mean as my girlfriend, but as my best friend, my partner, my home. You're the person I look for in every crowd, the one who makes me feel like I can take on the world, no matter how hard it gets.
