Chapter Thirty-Two: If I Meant Something… He Would’ve Shown It
409 Words
Lyric
It was the silence that made the decision for me.
No text.
No call.
No “I miss you.”
Nothing.
I woke up Sunday morning, rolled over, checked my phone out of habit… and still, nothing from Zay.
And that was all the closure I needed.
I sat on the edge of my bed, hair a mess, sleep still in my eyes, and whispered to myself:
“Let that man go.”
No long paragraph.
No soft playlist.
No crying on FaceTime to Janiyah.
Just a quiet promise to put myself first again.
School was back in full swing and exams were creeping up like stress with teeth.
So I took it as a sign.
I started showing up to class early.
Asking questions.
Sitting in the front, even when my anxiety told me not to.
Studying during lunch breaks.
Flashcards. Color-coded notes. Highlighters. All that.
And when I wasn’t in school?
I was clocked in.
I asked my manager for more hours at work.
Late shifts. Doubles on weekends.
Anything to keep me moving and too busy to think about gray eyes, tattoos, and soft lips that lied.
Janiyah noticed the change before anyone else.
“You ignoring my calls now, b***h?”
“Nah, I’ve just been busy,” I replied, grabbing my apron.
“Busy or hiding?”
“Both.”
She rolled her eyes through the phone, but I could hear the concern underneath.
“You really done with him?”
I tied my apron and looked at myself in the mirror.
“I have to be.”
Days passed like that.
School.
Work.
Study.
Sleep.
No posts.
No selfies.
No petty captions.
Just silence — the kind that hurts when you’re healing but builds you when you don’t go back.
I barely saw Janiyah. We’d send the occasional meme or “u good?” text, but even she was caught up in her own world with Smoke.
And honestly? I didn’t blame her.
We all had our coping.
Mine was distance.
It was Thursday night when my phone lit up with a number I didn’t save.
My heart jumped, thinking it could be him — until I remembered I deleted Zay’s number.
I stared at the screen for a second.
Didn’t answer.
Didn’t call back.
Didn’t even check the voicemail.
Because for the first time in a long time…
I wasn’t waiting for him to choose me.
I was finally choosing me.
- Writer
