three dots
1158 Words
Chapter 17: Three Dots
There are few things more exhausting than waiting for someone who never told you to wait.
Because technically, you chose it.
Technically, you stayed.
Technically, nobody forced you to remain in place while time kept moving without you.
That’s what makes it worse.
No anger to justify it.
No clear reason to walk away.
Just you.
Waiting.
Still.
Quiet.
It started after the stream.
Not immediately.
Not dramatically.
Just a small moment that didn’t feel like anything at first.
The chat had ended.
The stream had gone offline.
Maya’s usual goodbye messages had faded.
And for a few seconds, everything was quiet.
Then I saw it.
A message notification.
From Maya.
"hey Noah, are you still up?"
I stared at it for a second longer than I should have.
Something in my chest shifted.
Not excitement.
Not hope.
Something more fragile.
Attention.
Finally directed at me.
I typed quickly.
"Yeah."
A pause.
Then the three dots appeared.
Typing…
Stopping…
Typing…
I waited.
Those three dots shouldn’t matter.
They’re just pixels.
Just movement.
Just indication of activity.
But somehow they always feel like something is about to change.
Like a door opening slightly.
Like someone standing on the other side deciding whether to walk in or leave.
I watched them carefully.
They disappeared.
Then came back.
Then disappeared again.
Finally:
"can we talk later? I just need a bit of time rn"
I read it once.
Then again.
Then again.
It wasn’t rejection.
It wasn’t avoidance.
It wasn’t anything clearly bad.
Just… delay.
A pause.
A promise without a time attached.
And somehow that made it harder.
Because there was no ending.
Just waiting.
"Sure," I replied.
Simple.
Controlled.
Normal.
Then I added:
"How long?"
I watched the screen.
The dots appeared again.
Three dots.
Again.
I stared at them longer this time.
Long enough to notice how much I had started to depend on them.
On movement.
On response.
On anything that wasn’t silence.
The dots stopped.
Then:
"not sure. maybe like an hour? I’ll text you after stream stuff"
I nodded to myself.
Even though she couldn’t see it.
Even though I was alone in my room.
Even though nothing about this moment required physical reaction.
Still, I nodded.
Like it meant something.
Like agreement could make waiting easier.
"Okay," I typed.
Then hesitated.
Then added:
"Take your time."
I meant it.
I think.
At least, part of me did.
The part that still wanted to be the person who didn’t demand attention.
Who understood.
Who waited patiently.
The better version of me.
Or the version I liked pretending I was.
The chat stayed open.
I didn’t close it.
I just stared at it.
Blank screen.
No stream.
No movement.
Just her offline page.
And me.
Waiting for something that wasn’t happening yet.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Then thirty.
I told myself I’d do something else.
Work.
Scroll.
Watch something.
Anything.
But I didn’t move.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard a few times.
Then stopped.
Then hovered again.
Then stopped again.
Like I was trying to start a conversation with myself and failing.
At some point, I checked her stream again.
Just out of habit.
Nothing new.
Still offline.
Still quiet.
Still waiting.
Then I saw it.
A new notification.
Maya was live again.
I clicked instantly.
Too quickly.
Almost reflexively.
The stream loaded.
Viewer count already climbing.
Chat already active.
And there she was.
Talking.
Laughing.
Responding.
Already in motion.
Like nothing had paused.
Like nothing had been promised.
Like nothing had been left unfinished.
I sat there for a second.
Confused.
Then I checked messages again.
My conversation with her was still there.
Still unread.
Still open.
Still waiting.
I watched the stream.
Trying to understand what was happening.
Rohan was already there.
Of course he was.
Talking about something I didn’t catch.
Maya responded immediately.
Laughing.
Engaging.
Moving forward.
Naturally.
Effortlessly.
My message never got answered.
Not yet.
Not at all.
Just… suspended.
In between moments that no longer included me.
I told myself it was fine.
She said later.
She meant later.
She just got busy.
People get busy.
Stream things happen.
Chats happen.
Life happens.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing wrong.
Nothing personal.
But the problem wasn’t logic.
It never is.
It was the feeling of being placed on hold in a conversation that had already resumed without you.
I stayed in the stream anyway.
Not participating.
Just watching.
Reading.
Observing.
Waiting.
At some point, Rohan said something funny.
Maya laughed harder than usual.
Not louder.
Not different.
Just… longer.
The kind of laugh that stretches a moment out.
The kind that makes everyone else feel slightly outside it.
I felt it.
Even through text.
Even through a screen.
Time passed.
The stream continued.
My message remained unanswered.
The dots didn’t come back.
Not once.
At around 2 AM, the stream started slowing down.
People began leaving.
The chat thinned.
The energy softened.
Maya thanked everyone for coming.
Rohan stayed a bit longer in conversation.
I still didn’t type.
Not once.
Not because I didn’t want to.
Because I didn’t know what to say anymore.
Eventually, the stream ended.
Again.
Quiet.
Final.
I refreshed my messages immediately.
Still nothing.
No reply.
No follow-up.
No explanation.
Just the same message sitting there like it had been paused in time.
Waiting for a continuation that never came.
I stared at it for a long time.
Long enough that the screen dimmed.
Then brightened again when I moved slightly.
My earlier message was still there too.
The interview rejection.
Still unseen.
Still buried.
Still forgotten.
I didn’t feel angry.
Not exactly.
Not at Maya.
Not at Rohan.
Not at anyone.
It was something softer than anger.
And heavier.
The feeling of being briefly acknowledged… and then not followed through.
Like someone opening a door, looking at you, then walking away without closing it or inviting you in.
Just leaving it open.
Just enough to make you wait.
Eventually I closed the chat.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like closing it too fast might make the feeling worse.
My room felt different after that.
Not emptier.
Just quieter in a way that felt intentional.
Like silence had decided to stay.
I kept thinking about those three dots.
Typing…
Pausing…
Typing…
Because that was the worst part.
Not the delay.
Not the waiting.
But the expectation.
The brief belief that something was about to come.
A response.
A connection.
A continuation.
Then nothing.
Just silence taking its place.
And I realized something I didn’t want to.
Waiting doesn’t feel like nothing.
It feels like almost something.
And almost is the hardest thing to live inside.
Before sleeping, I checked once more.
Still no reply.
I put my phone down.
Turned off the light.
And lay there staring into the dark.
Thinking about how easy it is for conversations to continue without you.
And how hard it is to accept when they do.
End of Chapter 17
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