His Soft Obsession

Chapter Thirty-Three: I Miss Him… But I Miss Me More

Lyric

Summer break was right around the corner, but the days dragged like heavy steps through wet concrete.

I kept myself moving — still working, still studying, still avoiding every corner of my heart that whispered his name.

But late at night?

When the world slowed down and I was left alone with nothing but the hum of the fan in my room?

That’s when it hit.

I was sitting at my desk, highlighter in hand, pages of notes in front of me…

But my mind?

Drifting.

A part of me still wondered if he’d reach out.

If he’d show up again.

If that soft “you mine” he once whispered was ever real.

I let out a sigh, leaned back in my chair, and closed my eyes.

The quiet was loud.

So I let the music fill it.

I hit shuffle on my playlist — and the worst one played.

“Let It Go” by Jazmine Sullivan.

🎶 "He don’t know your worth…” 🎶

I laughed a little. Of course that song would hit tonight.

I looked over at my phone, sitting face-down on the bed, and whispered like an admission:

“I miss him.”

It hurt to say it out loud.

I missed his stupid voice.

His cocky smirk.

The way his eyes locked on mine like I was the only thing that ever made him feel calm.

But then I caught myself.

“Missing him doesn’t mean he deserves me.”

And just like that, I opened my notebook back up.

Saturday afternoon, I heard the knock on my front door.

It was loud, fast, impatient.

“Girl open up! It’s hot out here!”

I knew that voice.

I opened the door and Janiyah barged in like a storm in heels and attitude, swinging her braids and dropping her bag on the couch.

“Bestie. Why you been hiding like you on witness protection?”

I smiled for the first time in days.

“I’ve just been working. Studying. Trying to pass.”

She flopped down and kicked her shoes off.

“You missed everything. Let me catch you up.”

She ran through it all.

Smoke taking her to his cousin's BBQ.

Some girl side-eyeing her at the mall cause she used to talk to him.

Her getting her first pair of designer heels — “fake, but cute.”

And how Smoke finally called her his girl… just not on social media.

“I don’t care tho. It’s real offline,” she said, sipping the soda she pulled from my fridge without asking.

I listened. I laughed.

But I also felt that familiar ache in my chest.

Janiyah had her drama, but she also had something real.

Me?

I had silence.

Distance.

And a heart still quietly hoping.

Later that evening, after she left, I sat on my bed with my legs crossed and my textbook open.

My phone buzzed.

A number with no name.

Just once.

No voicemail.

No message.

I stared at it… but didn’t answer.

Didn’t even move.

Because maybe it was him.

And maybe it wasn’t.

But tonight?

I chose me.