Chapter 7 : Another Man Like Me
1232 Words
AVA'S POV
The notification glared up at me from the dark screen, a single line of text that felt like a lifeline thrown into a drowning ship.
Hello, stranger. How's it going?
I stared at it until the screen dimmed, plunging the room back into darkness.
My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic, rhythmic thud that matched the panic I'd been trying to suppress all evening.
He texted first.
I wasn't sure why that surprised me.
Maybe because people usually walked away after seeing the mess I was.
They saw the cracks, the desperation, the girl sitting alone in the dark waiting for a phone call that never came, and they ran.
He didn't.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly.
I felt exposed, vulnerable, and dangerously close to breaking again.
But the silence of the room was louder than my fear.
I've been better.
I hit send before I could delete it.
It was pathetic.
It was honest.
It barely took a few seconds for the reply to ping back.
I was hoping today would treat you a little kinder.
A tiny, fragile smile tugged at my lips, so unexpected it felt like it belonged to someone else.
Who even talked like that?
I leaned back against the headboard, pulling my knees to my chest, the glow of the phone the only light in the room.
It tried. My boyfriend invited me to the movies this morning. I thought maybe he was finally trying to make things right.
The three little dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
My breath hitched.
Was he judging me?
Was he laughing?
Let me guess... he cancelled.
I blinked, staring at the words.
The air left my lungs in a rush.
How did you know?
Because if he hadn't, you wouldn't have answered my message with "I've been better."
I stared at the screen, a cold chill running down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
He wasn't wrong.
He saw right through the text, through the lies I told myself, through the pathetic facade I tried to maintain.
His friends invited him to watch a game instead. Apparently that was more important.
A few seconds passed.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, before his reply lit up the screen.
Your boyfriend really is an i***t.
I couldn't help rolling my eyes, a burst of irritation flaring in my chest.
You don't even know him.
I know enough.
Another message followed almost immediately, the words hitting me with the force of a physical blow.
Any man who has a woman willing to love him the way you love him shouldn't keep making her question her worth.
The warmth rushed to my face before I could stop it, a flush spreading across my cheeks that I knew was visible even in the dark.
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, a nervous tic, even though no one could see me.
Why did that make me feel... seen?
It had been so long since anyone had looked at me and seen me, not an obstacle, not a burden, not a jealous psycho.
I cleared my throat, my fingers shaking as they hovered over the screen.
You're only saying that because you heard me crying the other night.
His reply came instantly.
No. I'm saying it because it's true.
The screen seemed to glow brighter, the words burning into my retinas.
From everything you told me, you're beautiful, loyal, patient... and you've spent three years trying to convince one man to appreciate what he already has.
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.
My fingers rested on the keyboard, frozen.
Beautiful?
He had never even seen me.
He didn't know what I looked like.
He didn't know about the dark circles under my eyes or the way my clothes hung loosely because I'd lost my appetite.
You're making a lot of assumptions.
I typed, my voice trembling as I whispered the words to the empty room.
Am I?
I bit my lip, hard enough to taste blood.
Before I knew it, I was smiling.
An actual smile.
It felt foreign on my face, the muscles unused to the expression.
I caught my reflection in the black screen of my television across the room.
A ghost of a smile on a girl who looked broken.
Ridiculous.
Absolutely ridiculous.
I looked away, forcing myself to focus on the glowing screen.
...Are you flirting with me?
The typing bubble appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.
Finally, the message came.
Maybe.
I laughed.
A real laugh this time, sharp and sudden in the quiet room.
Another message popped up.
Or maybe I'm just trying to put a smile on your face.
Then another.
Everyone deserves a reason to smile.
My chest felt strangely light, the heavy knot that had been there for years loosening just a fraction.
Well... congratulations. You succeeded.
His answer came so quickly it was almost unfair.
I know.
I frowned, confused.
How exactly do you know I'm smiling?
Because I had a feeling you would.
I shook my head, a laugh bubbling up in my throat again.
You're impossible.
I've been called worse.
I laughed again, the sound echoing in the room, bright and clear.
This man... he was impossible.
Dangerous, even.
And somehow... I didn't mind.
I hesitated before sending the next message, my finger hovering over the send button.
This was crossing a line.
This was dangerous territory.
I think I'm going to like you.
The moment I hit send, my eyes widened.
Panic surged through me.
"What did I just do?" I whispered to the empty room.
I grabbed my pillow and buried my face in it, screaming into the fabric.
"Oh my God..."
My phone buzzed almost immediately, vibrating against the mattress.
I snatched it up, my heart racing.
I hope that's a good thing.
I smiled despite myself, the fear mingling with something else, something thrilling and terrifying.
Maybe. You're funny.
I can be serious too.
The smile slowly faded as his next message arrived.
The tone shifted, the playful banter replaced by something darker, more intense.
Can I ask you something?
I frowned, a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach.
Sure.
His response took longer this time.
Long enough for my stomach to tighten, for the fear to creep back in.
The silence stretched, heavy with anticipation.
Then it appeared.
If another man was willing to give you everything your pathetic boyfriend keeps refusing to give you...
Another message followed before I could even process the first one.
A man who actually wanted to make you feel loved, desired, and appreciated...
I found myself holding my breath, the air trapped in my lungs.
The room felt smaller, the darkness closing in.
The final message appeared, the words glowing on the screen like a promise, or a threat.
A man like me... Would you let him?
My fingers froze above the keyboard.
The room was silent, but my mind was screaming.
I didn't know why my heart had suddenly started racing.
I didn't know why that question scared me.
Or why a part of me, the part that was tired of being alone, tired of being ignored, wanted to answer it.
Wanted to say yes.
- Writer
