Waiting
1772 Words
"The hardest part of caring about someone isn't saying hello. It's wondering if they'll say it first."
Amy
Thursday morning, I promised myself I wasn't going to check my phone.
It sounded like a healthy goal.
Reasonable.
Mature.
I made it exactly twenty-two minutes.
My hand drifted toward the nightstand before I was fully awake.
Halfway there...
I stopped.
"No."
I let my hand fall back onto the comforter.
"This is getting ridiculous."
From the kitchen, Mia laughed.
"I didn't hear what you said, but I agree."
A smile escaped before I could stop it.
"You're annoying."
"I've accepted that about myself."
When I walked into the kitchen, a plate of scrambled eggs was already waiting.
Mia pointed at it.
"Eat."
"I was going to make coffee."
"No coffee until breakfast."
"When did you become my mother?"
"The day you decided caffeine qualified as a food group."
I laughed and picked up my fork.
She watched me for a moment.
"You've been happier lately."
The comment caught me off guard.
"I have?"
"You laugh more."
I looked down at my plate.
"I guess I do."
She leaned against the counter.
"So..."
"So?"
"What's his name?"
I smiled without meaning to.
"I don't know."
She blinked.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I mean... I literally don't know."
"You've been smiling at your phone for almost a week because of a man whose name you don't know?"
"It's not like that."
"It is exactly like that."
I took another bite of eggs instead of answering.
She narrowed her eyes.
"How old is he?"
"I don't know."
"Where does he live?"
"I don't know."
"What do you know?"
I thought about it.
I knew he listened.
I knew he chose his words carefully.
I knew music mattered to him.
I knew silence never felt uncomfortable with him.
I knew he somehow noticed the parts of me I usually kept hidden.
None of that should have been enough.
Somehow...
It already felt like more than it should.
"I know how he makes me feel," I said quietly.
Mia's teasing disappeared.
"And how's that?"
I looked toward the gray morning beyond the kitchen window.
"He makes me feel seen."
Silence settled between us.
Then Mia smiled.
Not teasing.
Not amused.
Just... soft.
Her expression made me wonder if she'd been hoping someone would make me say those words someday.
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
"Just make sure you still see yourself too."
Those words stayed with me long after I left the apartment.
---
By nine o'clock, Crane & Rogers had swallowed me whole.
Emails.
Blueprints.
Calculations.
A client revision that changed three things and somehow created twelve more problems.
Grace paired Jordan and me on a pedestrian bridge review.
Jordan stretched until his back popped.
"You know what I like about engineering?"
"What?"
"When we're wrong..."
He tapped the blueprint.
"...the math tells us."
"I was going to say job security."
"That too."
I smiled and bent over the plans again.
The bridge crossed a narrow section of the river downtown.
Most people would never think twice about walking across it.
They'd trust it without ever knowing why.
That was the beauty of engineering.
When you did your job well...
People rarely noticed.
For nearly an hour I lost myself in calculations.
Load paths.
Expansion joints.
Support spacing.
For a while...
I forgot about my phone.
Forgot about playlists.
Forgot about waiting.
Jordan stepped away to make copies.
The silence he left behind felt bigger than it should have.
Almost without thinking, I unlocked my phone.
Nothing.
I frowned.
Not because I expected a message.
Because I'd noticed there wasn't one.
I locked it again before I could think too much about why that mattered.
Jordan returned carrying a stack of drawings.
"You know..."
I didn't even look up.
"No."
"I haven't said anything."
"You're about to."
He laughed.
"Your concentration's getting better."
"It is?"
"You've only checked your phone once today."
"I was checking the time."
He glanced toward the oversized clock hanging on the wall.
"The giant one finally stop working?"
I sighed.
"I'm allowed to check my phone."
"I never said you weren't."
His voice softened.
"Just don't let whatever you're waiting on become background noise."
I looked up.
"What?"
He shrugged.
"When something's always running in the background..."
He tapped the calculations.
"...that's when mistakes happen."
His words landed harder than he probably intended.
Because he wasn't talking about engineering anymore.
Neither of us was.
"I'm not waiting."
The answer came too quickly.
Jordan studied me for a second.
Then simply nodded.
"Right."
I hated how gentle he sounded.
Teasing was easy to ignore.
Concern wasn't.
Before either of us could say anything else, Grace stepped into the room.
"Conference room in five minutes."
Jordan gathered the drawings.
"Saved by structural review."
"Again," I muttered.
He smiled.
"I'll pretend I didn't notice."
But we both knew he had.
---
Lucas
I read Amy's last message three times.
Sleep well.
She always ended our conversations with kindness.
Not because she had to.
Because kindness seemed to be her default setting.
I should have messaged her that morning.
I didn't.
I almost did at lunch.
I didn't.
Now it was nearly five, and I'd spent the entire day pretending one missed conversation didn't matter.
It should have.
Instead...
The silence followed me from meeting to meeting.
That bothered me.
Missing something meant it had become part of my routine.
Missing someone...
Meant they'd become part of me.
A knock sounded against my office door.
Noah walked in carrying two coffees.
He handed me one without asking.
"You look miserable."
"I've spent all day reading financial reports."
"You've spent all day rereading one conversation."
I accepted the coffee.
"I haven't."
"You've opened it six times."
"You counted?"
"I was bored."
I shook my head.
"You need better hobbies."
"I have one."
"Oh?"
"I watch the CEO of Crane & Rogers slowly fall for an engineering intern."
I nearly choked on my coffee.
"I'm not falling for anyone."
He smiled into his cup.
"Whatever helps you sleep."
The truth was...
I wasn't afraid of falling.
I'd done that once.
Completely.
Confidently.
Recklessly.
I believed love was something two people built together.
Long before she walked away...
She stopped choosing us.
By the time she finally left...
I was the only one surprised.
After that...
Work became easier than people.
Projects made sense.
Business made sense.
Love...
Didn't.
Amy was quietly changing that.
Without trying.
Without even knowing.
And that terrified me.
Noah sat across from me.
"You're pulling back."
"I'm being careful."
"Those aren't always the same thing."
I looked out over Detroit.
Clouds hung low above the skyline.
"She doesn't know who I am."
"Then tell her."
"I can't."
"You won't."
I met his eyes.
He didn't look away.
"There's a difference."
I hated that he was right.
---
Amy
Willow & Bean was busier than usual.
Every table was full.
Fresh bread scented the air while rain tapped gently against the windows.
Mrs. Harper waved me toward my favorite table.
"I saved it."
"You spoil me."
"I invest in loyal customers."
"I knew there had to be a catch."
She laughed.
"The usual?"
"You already know."
"I always do."
I settled into my chair.
Opened my laptop.
Read exactly one sentence.
Then my eyes drifted toward my phone.
Still nothing.
Maybe he was busy.
Maybe he was traveling.
Maybe he simply had a life that didn't revolve around messaging a woman whose last name he barely knew.
People had lives.
I had one too.
A full one.
A busy one.
A life I'd worked hard to build.
So why did the silence feel like a chair left empty?
Like someone hadn't shown up for a conversation I'd quietly started expecting.
The conversation had become part of the room.
Without it...
Everything sounded quieter.
I opened my music app instead.
Nocturne.
Two songs.
I pressed play.
The first notes filled my earbuds.
It wasn't the same as talking to him.
But somehow...
It felt close.
Close enough that I smiled.
Mrs. Harper passed carrying a tray of warm pastries.
"You found another way to hear him."
I looked up.
"What?"
She nodded toward my earbuds.
"The music."
I looked down at the playlist.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe I wasn't holding on to the messages anymore.
Maybe I was holding on to everything between them.
The songs.
The quiet.
The questions.
The feeling of being understood without having to explain myself.
Attachment.
That was harder to explain than silence.
Mrs. Harper paused beside my table.
"How's the playlist coming?"
I smiled.
"It has two songs now."
"Only two?"
"So far."
She nodded thoughtfully.
"The meaningful things usually start small."
I looked back at my phone.
Maybe she was talking about the playlist.
Maybe she wasn't.
---
Lucas
By the time I reached The Rosewood Terrace, the rain had followed me home.
My jacket landed across the couch.
My tie followed.
Then my watch, carefully placed beside the record player.
Usually the ritual settled me.
Tonight...
It only reminded me of her.
Coffee brewed.
The record player stayed silent.
Enough.
I opened our conversation.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Nocturne: I heard a song today that reminded me of you.
I stared at it.
Too honest.
Too vulnerable.
Too soon.
Delete.
I started again.
Nocturne: I think you'll like this one.
Safer.
Music could still say what I couldn't.
I attached the song.
Pressed Send.
Immediately wished I'd said more.
One minute.
Then another.
Nothing.
Maybe she was studying.
Maybe she'd gone to bed early.
Maybe she'd finally grown tired of waiting for a man who only knew how to appear in pieces.
My phone buzzed.
Amy: I was just listening to the playlist.
I sat up.
Playlist?
Nocturne: Playlist?
Three dots appeared.
Then—
Amy: I named it after you.
My chest tightened.
Named it after me.
Not Lucas Bennett.
Not the CEO.
Nocturne.
The only version of me I'd ever allowed the world to know without expectations attached.
I walked to the window.
Rain blurred Detroit into soft streaks of gold and gray.
For the first time in years...
Someone had made room for me in their life.
She had fallen for the truest version of me.
The only problem...
Was that I'd hidden him behind a mask.
Every day I waited, the truth became heavier.
Every conversation made it harder to imagine telling her...
And harder to imagine never telling her at all.
The truth wasn't just waiting anymore.
It was becoming something I could no longer outrun.
- Writer
