Title:The Day You Stopped Calling Me

Chapter 12:Almost over you

For everyone else, it looked like Michael had moved on perfectly. He still smiled in class, still walked Anita to the cafeteria, still laughed at her jokes. To the world, they were the “new couple” the picture of happiness. But when the crowd disappeared, and the noise of people faded, the silence between them began to speak louder than any words could.

Anita loved attention. That much was clear. Every morning, she made sure everyone saw them together. She held his arm tightly, laughed too loudly, and sometimes even glanced around to make sure people were watching. It was almost as if she needed to remind the world that she had won.

But Michael didn’t feel like he’d won anything.

Every time Anita smiled, a part of him wondered if it was the same kind of smile Amara used to give quiet, genuine, without trying too hard.

He never admitted it out loud, but ever since that day in the rain, the image of Amara standing there, soaked and broken, wouldn’t leave his head. Sometimes, he saw her in his dreams not crying, just looking at him with those eyes that once held so much love. It haunted him.

“Are you even listening?” Anita’s voice cut through his thoughts one afternoon. They were sitting at the school café, drinks untouched.

He blinked and looked up. “What?”

She sighed dramatically. “You’ve been zoning out lately, Michael. You barely talk, you don’t laugh anymore. Is it because of that girl?”

He frowned. “Don’t start, Anita.”

“Don’t start?” she snapped, lowering her voice but her tone still sharp. “You think I don’t notice? The way you flinch when people mention her name, or how you keep checking your phone like you’re waiting for something?”

“I’m not,” he said quickly, avoiding her eyes. “I just have things on my mind.”

“Things like Amara?” she shot back.

He sighed deeply. “Can we not do this here?”

Anita folded her arms, her eyes filled with irritation and insecurity. “You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you? After everything she caused, after the embarrassment, you still can’t let her go.”

Michael clenched his jaw. He wanted to say something, but words failed him. How could he explain that he wasn’t proud of what happened that part of him still ached with guilt?

He stood up abruptly. “I’m going to class.”

“Of course you are,” Anita said bitterly. “Run away, as usual.”

He walked away without another word.

That night, alone in his room, Michael lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His friends had stopped teasing him about Amara, but their words still echoed in his mind. “You handled it badly, bro. She really loved you.”

He turned to face the window, the soft hum of rain beginning again outside.

Rain.

It always came back to that night.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. He missed her voice the calmness it brought. He missed her random texts about little things that didn’t matter but somehow made him feel cared for. He missed how she understood him in ways even he didn’t understand himself.

But it was too late now.

The next morning, Anita came to his room unannounced. She had that forced smile on her face again, holding a small paper bag. “I brought breakfast,” she said sweetly.

He nodded, half-grateful, half-exhausted.

“Michael,” she started after a moment, her voice low, “if you’re going to keep thinking about her, then what are we doing?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because deep down, he didn’t know the answer himself.

Anita placed the food on his table, stood quietly for a moment, then said softly, “You should forget her. She’s already moved on.”

When the door closed behind her, Michael whispered to the empty room, “If only it were that easy.”

He sat back down, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He found himself on Amara’s profile. She hadn’t posted anything in days. Her last status was a quote simple but sharp enough to slice through his chest:

“Sometimes silence is the loudest goodbye.”

For the first time, he realized maybe Amara wasn’t broken anymore. Maybe she was learning to live without him.

And that thought scared him more than anything else ever had.