Chapter 4 – Silence Between the Messages
1154 Words
Ellise’s POV
“Still nothing?”
Amara Zoey’s gum snapped as she leaned over my shoulder. She didn’t even wait for me to answer before stealing the fries off my tray.
“Still nothing,” I muttered, refreshing my DMs for the twentieth time that lunch break.
It had been two days. Two entire days since Renji Sage’s last reply—the sarcastic Why are you telling me this?—and now… silence.
Just silence.
I locked my phone, shoved it into my bag, and stabbed at my fries like they’d personally offended me.
Amara gave me a look. “Ellise. Don’t tell me you’re sulking.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“You’re sulking.” She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Honestly, I warned you. Guys like him don’t reply to random girls.”
My jaw tightened. “I’m not random.”
“You are literally the definition of random.”
I shoved a fry in her mouth to shut her up. “Look—he replied once, and then again. That means something.”
“Yeah. It means he probably realized he shouldn’t have and ghosted you.”
Her bluntness stung, but I forced a laugh. “Wow, supportive best friend award goes to you.”
She grinned proudly. “Always.”
But even as she teased me, the ache in my chest grew. Maybe she was right. Maybe I’d crossed the line.
Still… I couldn’t stop myself. My fingers itched, and before I knew it, I was typing again.
> Update of the day: I spilled iced coffee all over myself in front of my professor. I wanted the ground to swallow me alive. Please pretend this never happened.
I hit send before I could change my mind.
“Ellise…” Amara groaned, snatching my phone. “You’re addicted. This is a full-on problem.”
I hugged my bag like a child. “Maybe. But it makes me happy.”
She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t push further.
Because she knew. She knew that even if he never replied, I wasn’t ready to stop.
---
Renji’s POV
I should’ve been focused.
On the choreography, the endless repetition of steps drilled into muscle memory. On the lyrics I had to sing perfectly even after hours of dancing. On the cameras that would capture every mistake and magnify it a hundred times.
But instead, my mind drifted.
To her.
To her ridiculous updates, popping up between rehearsals and interviews.
Update of the day: I spilled iced coffee all over myself…
I read it between takes, pretending I was checking the time. A laugh almost slipped out, and Kai nudged me.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, catching my smile in the mirror.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, too quickly.
He raised a brow but let it go.
We ran through the routine again, sweat dripping, lungs burning. The manager’s voice echoed sharp across the studio: “Again. Cleaner this time. No mistakes.”
I pushed harder, body screaming, but in the back of my head, her words lingered.
Her silly little disasters. Her unshakable cheer.
She had no idea how heavy these days felt. And yet… somehow, she lightened them without even trying.
I wanted to reply. God, I wanted to. But I couldn’t. Not when management monitored everything. Not when one slip could turn into a scandal.
So, I read her words in silence. And I kept them to myself.
---
Ellise’s POV – three days later
I hated how much I cared.
Every morning, I woke up hoping—just hoping—that he might have replied. And every morning, disappointment hit like a punch to the gut.
Still, I kept sending messages.
One was a blurry selfie of Amara mid-yawn.
> Please appreciate the face of my best friend who keeps stealing my food. Isn’t she terrifying?
Another was just a random thought.
> Do you ever wonder if pigeons gossip about us the way we gossip about them?
And then—because I couldn’t help myself—
> Good luck today, whatever you’re doing. Don’t overwork yourself, okay?
Nothing.
No replies.
Just me, talking to the void.
By the third night, I sat curled up in bed, scrolling through our tiny thread. My messages stacked one after another, lonely and one-sided.
Maybe Amara was right. Maybe I’d pushed too far.
The thought made my chest ache.
Amara peeked in, catching me sulking under my blanket burrito. “Still nothing?”
I groaned. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Hey, I’m not judging.” She flopped down beside me, stealing my blanket. “Okay, maybe I’m judging a little. But also? I get it. He’s Renji Sage. He’s basically your Roman Empire.”
I snorted despite myself. “You’re not wrong.”
Her expression softened. “Just… don’t let it crush you, Blair. If he doesn’t reply, it’s not your fault. You’re just… being you. And honestly? That’s the best thing about you.”
I blinked at her, warmth spreading through me. “You’re actually being nice for once.”
“Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”
I laughed, and for the first time in days, the ache eased.
That night, I typed one last message:
> Hey. I don’t know if you’ll ever reply again, but that’s okay. Just wanted to say—you’re doing great. Even if the world doesn’t always tell you, even if you don’t always believe it—you’re enough. Sleep well, Ice Prince.
I set my phone aside with trembling hands.
For once, I didn’t wait for the notification sound.
I just closed my eyes. And hoped, somehow, he’d see it.
---
Renji’s POV – the same night
The dorm was quiet. Everyone else was asleep.
But I wasn’t.
I sat in the dark, my body aching from another fourteen-hour day, my mind buzzing with exhaustion.
And then I opened my phone.
Her message glowed on the screen, soft and steady.
Hey. I don’t know if you’ll ever reply again, but that’s okay. Just wanted to say—you’re doing great. Even if the world doesn’t always tell you, even if you don’t always believe it—you’re enough. Sleep well, Ice Prince.
I stared at it, my chest tightening in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.
She didn’t ask for anything. She didn’t demand. She didn’t beg.
She just… gave.
I wanted to reply. To tell her how badly I needed those words. To admit that she was the only one who talked to me like I was more than just Renji Sage, idol, product, brand.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Because idols don’t get to be human. Not really.
So, I read it again. And again. Until her words etched themselves into me.
“You’re enough.”
And for the first time in weeks, I fell asleep with a smile.
- Writer
