THE MESSAGE SHE NEVER SENT

Chapter 1 - She Misses Him Maya stared at the message on her screen for the tenth time. I miss you. Three words. So simple. Yet somehow, they felt heavier than anything she had ever typed. Her thumb hovered over the send button. She could send it. She could tell him she still thought about him. She could tell him that some songs still reminded her of him, that she sometimes opened their old conversations just to read them again, and that there were nights when she almost convinced herself to call. Almost. But then she remembered why she had stopped. Maya locked her phone and tossed it onto her bed. "I'm not doing this again," she whispered. A few seconds later, she picked up the phone. The message was still there. I miss you. There had been a time when talking to him was the easiest part of her day. He knew how to make her laugh when she didn't feel like smiling. He knew which songs she loved and which ones she couldn't stand. Then, slowly, things changed. The conversations became shorter. The replies became colder. And eventually, Maya found herself wondering when someone she once felt so close to had started feeling like a stranger. Her phone buzzed. Her heart jumped. For a moment, she thought it was him. It wasn't. Just a notification. Maya laughed quietly at herself. "See? Still waiting." She opened the message again. I miss you. She stared at the words. Then she deleted them. One letter at a time. When the screen finally went blank, Maya felt something she hadn't expected. Relief. Not happiness. Not sadness. Just relief. She placed her phone on the table and walked outside. The evening air was cool against her face. Somewhere nearby, children were laughing. Life was happening. And Maya realized she had spent too much time waiting for someone who wasn't waiting for her. Maybe missing someone didn't always mean you had to go back to them. Sometimes, it simply meant they had once mattered. And that was okay. Her phone buzzed again. This time, she didn't reach for it immediately. She smiled. For the first time in a long while, Maya wasn't waiting for a message. She was choosing herself. And maybe that was the message she had been trying to send all along. I'm moving forward. Maya stood up, slipped her phone into her pocket, and started walking. Tomorrow could wait. Tonight, she had a life to live. The following morning, Maya woke up earlier than usual. She needed to be at her part-time job in a restaurant as a chef and she couldn't afford to be late. She went into the bathroom, took her bath, dressed in a basic top and cargo pants, hair packed in a messy bun. She wasn't a fan of makeup so she just put Vaseline on her lips to keep them moisturized, grabbed her purse and headed out, hailed a taxi and got in. Maya got to the restaurant and it was already buzzing and noisy from the line. "Good morning," one of her colleagues called. "Morning," Maya replied with a small smile and went straight to the kitchen to begin her task. She got to the kitchen, put down her bag and tied her apron around her waist. The kitchen was warm and busy. Kettles whistling, pans clapping and knives tapping against the chopping boards. She was able to focus on her task for a while, then an order came in. She looked at the ticket and froze. Her eyes moved over the words again. She knew that dish. It was his favourite. Maya come here, Maya, Maya — Maya giggling — Why? Before she could move he reached for her and smeared flour all over her cheeks. "Maya gasped" are you serious? and he burst out laughing. I caught you, he said. Maya chased after him with flour in her hands, after a while she was able to smear his face with flour. They both burst out laughing. They stared into each other's eyes and he said "I pray this happiness lasts forever". Maya blinked and she was back in the kitchen and the ticket order was still in her hands, her chest felt oddly tight and she remembered how much he loved it. She picked up her phone from the kitchen counter to check their old messages, one of which said "I promise to be there for you no matter what Maya". Tears welled up in her eyes threatening to drop but she quickly wiped them off and whispered to herself you don't have to cry because of someone who doesn't care about you. Her colleague's voice came across from the kitchen. "Maya is the order ready?" "Just five more minutes," she said. She turned back towards the stove, took a deep breath and began to pick the ingredients for the order. This time she wasn't cooking for him, she was cooking for her customer. Somewhere beneath the pain she was hiding, Maya began to realize that maybe the hardest part of letting someone go wasn't forgetting them. Maybe it was accepting that the person you missed no longer existed in the way you remembered them.