Untitled
373 Words
It was exactly 12:03 a.m.
The kind of midnight where the world is quiet but your thoughts are screaming.
Her thumb hovered over his name.
Years.
Years of pretending.
Years of swallowing a crush that started in junior school and refused to die. She had promised herself in her first year of senior school: I will never get involved with him. A clean promise. A mature promise. A necessary promise.
And yet here she was.
Typing.
Deleting.
Typing again.
She told herself she was doing this to heal — to get over her fear of heartbreak, to prove she could trust boys again. But deep down, there was another voice. A sharper one.
Maybe I just want control this time.
Maybe I want to use him before he can hurt me.
The message sent.
The conversation started lightly. Casual. Harmless. Two almost-adults revisiting a familiar rhythm.
Then the walls came down.
She told him she didn’t trust the other gender.
“Why?” he asked.
Her heart pounded. Fingers trembling over the screen.
“Don’t you remember what you did to me?”
There was a pause.
He didn’t.
He said he had acted badly. But he hadn’t known how she felt.
That stopped her.
How could he not know? She thought she had been obvious. The glances. The quiet loyalty. The way her world tilted when he entered a room.
Then he dropped something unexpected.
He had felt something too.
The room felt smaller. The air heavier. Years of silence collapsing into one conversation.
Was this truth? Or nostalgia dressed up as honesty?
She stared at the ceiling.
Should she believe him?
Should she trust him?
The girl who once got hurt whispered, Don’t be stupid.
The girl who had loved him since childhood whispered, What if this is your chance?
But beneath both voices was another truth she didn’t want to face.
He wasn’t just a boy.
He was family.
And some lines aren’t blurry — they’re drawn in ink.
Midnight has a way of making everything feel possible. But morning has a way of asking harder questions.
She didn’t have answers yet.
Only a glowing phone screen.
And a heart that didn’t know whether it was reopening… or finally closing.
- Writer
