What I Asked For
1012 Words
Clara
A week passed.
Seven whole days.
And Reig Miller actually listened.
No random appearances at Sara’s café.
No sudden encounters outside my apartment.
No teasing.
No warm smiles that made my chest feel annoyingly tight.
Nothing.
Which was good.
Exactly what I wanted.
So why did everything suddenly feel so…quiet?
I sat near the window of Sara’s café absentmindedly stirring my coffee while staring outside. The place looked exactly the same.
Warm lights. Soft music. The smell of freshly baked bread drifting through the air.
Nothing changed.
And yet somehow
It felt emptier.
I frowned at my drink.
Ridiculous.
I was being ridiculous.
“You look miserable.”
I glanced up to see Sara placing a slice of cheesecake in front of me.
“I didn’t order this.”
“You look like you need emotional support.”
“I’m fine.”
“Hm.”
That “hm” carried absolutely zero belief.
I sighed dramatically before taking a bite of the cheesecake.
Honestly?
It helped a little.
Sara leaned against the counter while watching me suspiciously.
“You know,” she started carefully, “the café has been less entertaining lately.”
I narrowed my eyes immediately.
“Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying your tall emotionally unavailable man disappeared and now you look like a divorced woman at thirty.”
I nearly choked on my coffee.
“He’s not my man.”
“Sure.”
“We’re not even talking.”
“You weren’t talking before either. You were just staring at each other aggressively.”
“That’s called tension.”
Sara gasped dramatically.
“Oh my God. She admits there was tension.”
I dropped my forehead against the table.
This woman would never know peace.
The annoying part was
She wasn’t entirely wrong.
Because somehow, over the span of only a few days, Reig had quietly inserted himself into my routine.
Morning coffee.
Teasing.
The way he somehow always looked at me like he genuinely wanted to know what I was thinking.
And now that he was gone
I noticed it.
Too much.
But this was my fault.
My choice.
I was the one who told him to stop seeing me.
And unlike me
Reig actually respected boundaries.
Annoyingly mature man.
That night, after getting home, I found myself lying on my bed doing something deeply embarrassing.
Stalking Reig’s social media.
Again.
Not that there was much to stalk.
His account was painfully private.
Barely any posts.
No dramatic captions.
No oversharing.
Even his profile picture looked unnecessarily professional.
Who looked that good holding a pilot headset?
Unfair.
I scrolled through the tagged photos instead.
Mostly old pictures.
Graduation posts.
Friends.
New York.
Then suddenly...
My thumb paused.
A tagged photo.
Posted by a girl.
Pretty.
Blonde.
Flight attendant uniform.
My stomach twisted before I could stop it.
I clicked the photo.
And immediately regretted it.
The picture was taken inside a club somewhere in New York. Dim neon lights filled the background while people crowded around expensive-looking drinks.
And there
Reig sat beside her.
Close.
Too close.
The girl leaned comfortably against him while smiling brightly at the camera. Meanwhile Reig looked relaxed beside her, one arm resting behind her chair casually.
Intimate.
Painfully intimate.
I stared at the photo longer than necessary before scrolling further.
Another picture.
Graduation day.
The same girl stood beside Reig together with several other people wearing graduation gowns.
Everyone looked successful.
Beautiful.
Certain.
The girl especially.
Elegant.
Confident.
Perfect beside him.
I clicked her profile before I could stop myself.
Which was apparently a mistake.
Because her entire account looked like a luxury airline commercial.
Travel photos.
Cockpit pictures.
Expensive dinners.
New York skylines.
Perfect makeup.
Perfect smile.
Perfect life.
I looked down at myself.
Oversized shirt.
Messy bun.
Instant noodles sitting beside my bed.
Wow.
Amazing comparison, Clara.
I laughed softly at myself.
Of course someone like Reig would belong with someone like her.
Not someone confused and stuck halfway through life.
Not someone who gave up on the only thing she loved just because her parents told her to.
My chest tightened painfully.
And the worst part?
I had no right to feel jealous.
I was the one who pushed him away.
I was the one who said
stop seeing me.
So why did seeing another girl beside him suddenly feel unbearable?
I locked my phone and threw it beside me dramatically before covering my face with a pillow.
“This is karma,” I mumbled into the fabric.
Because clearly the universe found my suffering entertaining.
I closed my eyes tightly.
But somehow my mind kept replaying stupid little things about him anyway.
The way he rolled his sleeves up neatly.
The way he remembered my coffee order.
The way he looked at me like I was still someone worth choosing.
God.
Maybe I really was an i***t.
Maybe Sara was right.
Maybe I was emotionally constipated.
A bitter laugh escaped me.
Then before I could stop myself
Tears started falling quietly against the pillow.
Not dramatic sobbing.
Just silent tears slipping out one after another.
Because for the first time
I realized I missed him.
Not the idea of him.
Not childhood memories.
Not nostalgia.
Him.
The current version.
The patient version.
The annoying version.
The version who showed up anyway.
My chest hurt terribly realizing that.
Because maybe
Maybe I pushed away the one person who actually saw me clearly.
I wiped my eyes harshly and reached for my phone again.
Pathetic.
Absolutely pathetic.
I opened i********: one last time.
Just one more look.
That was all.
But before I could close the app
A new story appeared on top of my screen.
Posted seconds ago.
By the same flight attendant.
My thumb hovered briefly before clicking it.
Then my entire body froze.
It was a video.
Short.
Shaky.
Loud music in the background.
People laughing.
And there
Reig.
Wearing black.
Head tilted slightly while smiling at something the girl beside him whispered.
Then suddenly...
The camera shifted.
And the girl kissed his cheek.
- Writer
