A Message She Didn’t Expect
1366 Words
Hana finally texted.
Not a paragraph.
Not a voice note.
Not an apology.
Just one message.
Hana: “We’ll be back next week. Hope you’re okay.”
Mei stared at her phone for a long time, waiting for more—waiting for something that felt like Hana. Something warm. Something real.
Nothing came.
Rina noticed her expression as she entered the room with folded laundry. “Let me guess,” she said, placing the clothes down. “She finally remembered you exist?”
Mei sighed. “She sent a message.”
“Only one?”
Mei nodded.
Rina rolled her eyes. “Of course. Classic Hana.”
Mei didn’t respond. She sat at her desk, scrolling up through their old chats—the ones filled with emojis, inside jokes, late-night gossip, voice notes that lasted ten minutes. Back when Hana clung to her, depended on her, shared everything.
Back when Mei felt important.
Now the space between them felt wide and unfamiliar, like a door slowly closing.
Rina sat beside Mei and looked at her gently. “Do you… miss her?”
Mei hesitated. “Yes. But I don’t know if I miss her… or who she used to be.”
Rina’s expression softened.
“Mei,” she said quietly, “you don’t have to keep trying to hold on to people who make you feel small.”
Mei looked down at her hands. “Hana isn’t bad. She’s just… confusing.”
Rina studied her. “And how do you feel when she’s not around?”
Mei thought about it.
The house was quiet.
Her thoughts were clearer.
Her chest didn’t hurt as much.
She didn’t feel like she was competing for someone’s affection.
“I feel…”—she swallowed—“calm.”
Rina nodded slowly. “Maybe that’s telling you something.”
Later That Evening
The girls gathered in the living room to watch a movie—Clara, Peculiar, Soye, Rina, and Mei. They lounged on the sofas, popcorn everywhere, arguing about which film to pick.
Mei laughed for the first time in days.
Clara joked nonstop, Soye imitated movie characters, Peculiar kept throwing popcorn at everyone, and Rina sat close beside Mei—close enough that their arms brushed occasionally.
It felt warm.
Safe.
Comfortable.
Halfway through the movie, Peculiar stretched and said, “Honestly? The vibe is better without Hana bossing everybody around.”
The room went quiet.
Mei froze.
Clara coughed awkwardly. “Peculiar—”
“What?” Peculiar shrugged. “It’s true. Hana always acts like everything is about her. She stresses me.”
Rina gently placed her hand on Mei’s thigh—not to flirt, not to cross a line—but as reassurance, grounding her.
Soye noticed the discomfort. “We’re not trying to be mean,” she said softly. “It’s just… things feel lighter these days.”
Mei wasn’t angry.
But she felt something heavy settle in her chest.
“If everyone feels this way,” Mei asked quietly, “why hasn’t anyone ever told her?”
Clara shrugged. “Because she’s Hana. And she explodes if anyone corrects her.”
Peculiar muttered, “I swear that girl needs a reality check.”
Mei forced a small smile, but her thoughts were loud.
So it wasn’t just me…
Everyone felt the shift.
Everyone felt the imbalance.
For years, Mei thought she was the problem—too sensitive, too attached, too forgiving.
But maybe…
Hana really had changed.
Maybe Mei wasn’t imagining the distance.
That Night — Rina’s Room
Mei knocked softly. “Can I sleep here tonight?”
Rina looked up from her book and smiled. “Of course.”
Mei slipped under the covers, facing the wall. Rina turned off the lamp and lay beside her, quiet for a long moment.
“You were hurt today,” Rina whispered.
Mei didn’t deny it.
Rina shifted closer, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to carry everything alone.”
Something in Mei broke a little—quietly, without sound.
“Rina… am I a bad friend for wishing Hana stayed longer?”
“No,” Rina whispered. “It means you’re healing.”
Mei closed her eyes as Rina’s hand found hers under the blanket—just a light, steady touch.
Not romantic.
Not flirtatious.
Just solid.
Comfort.
And for the first time, Mei didn’t feel guilty for needing someone other than Hana.
The house felt heavier without Hana and Suki.
Mei noticed it first in the mornings—Rina moved slower, the kitchen felt too spacious, and even the quiet seemed to echo. Yuto’s house was only across town, yet the distance felt wider than the entire Akiyama City.
Rina sat at the table, scrolling through her phone as Mei prepared noodles. She barely spoke during breakfast these days, and Mei pretended not to notice, afraid that asking would make something spill out that neither of them was ready to catch.
When Mei’s phone buzzed, she assumed it was Hana finally checking in.
But it wasn’t.
Hana (typing…):
Still at Yuto’s. He says it’s okay if we stay longer.
Mei paused. She forced her fingers to stay steady.
Mei:
Okay. Just stay safe.
No heart emoji. No “I miss you.”
She wanted to send them—but something inside her felt bruised, too unsure to reach out first.
Rina shifted uncomfortably.
“Mei… are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
She wasn’t.
Two days later, just when the house had fallen into a hollow routine, a message dropped into Mei’s phone like a stone into still water.
From: Suki
Rina is not talking to me. I don’t know why. But Hana said she’ll help me talk to her later.
Mei sighed. Another fracture. Another thing no one wanted to address.
Later that night, Suki finally called. Her voice trembled through the speaker.
“Rina is acting strange,” she whispered. “Even Hana noticed. She keeps looking at me like I did something wrong.”
Mei rubbed her forehead. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
But tomorrow came, and between assignments, grocery runs, and the quiet ache of missing Hana, Mei forgot.
It wasn’t until the weekend that everything broke open.
Mei and Rina were sitting on the balcony, each pretending to enjoy the silence. Night breeze brushed their skin, and the city lights blinked in the distance like restless fireflies.
Rina exhaled shakily.
“Mei… I think I’m the problem.”
Mei turned. “What do you mean?”
Rina looked down at her hands. “Suki keeps asking me what’s wrong. And I keep pushing her away. I don’t know why.”
“Do you… like her?” Mei asked gently.
Rina’s breath caught.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe I’m just scared. Everything feels messy lately.”
Mei reached over, squeezing her hand. “You’re allowed to feel confused.”
Rina nodded, but her eyes glistened.
Then she added, almost in a whisper,
“And I’m worried about you too.”
Mei blinked. “Me?”
“You pretend you’re okay. But you’re not.”
Rina hesitated. “Hana being gone… it’s affecting you more than you want to admit.”
Mei swallowed hard. “She’s my best friend. Of course I miss her.”
“It’s more than that, Mei.”
The silence that followed was sharp. Mei looked away, her chest tightening in a way she didn’t want to name.
Before either of them could speak again, Mei’s phone buzzed.
A message from Hana.
Hana:
Mei… we need to talk when I come back.
Mei felt the world tilt.
Not “I miss you.”
Not “How are you?”
Just—we need to talk.
Rina read Mei’s expression and whispered, “What’s wrong?”
Mei lowered the phone slowly.
“Hana wants to talk when she gets back.”
“Oh.”
Rina’s fingers tightened around the balcony rail. “That sounds… serious.”
Mei nodded, but her heart was already spiraling.
Because deep down—she knew.
Everything was shifting.
Every bond, every friendship, every quiet secret was cracking open.
And when Hana returned, nothing would be the same.
- Writer
