He Stayed Until I Was Ready

Typing... ~Chapter 8~

July 3, 2022

It started with three dots.

Those little "typing..." bubbles that blinked, disappeared, and came back again like they were unsure too.

Tann: Sorry. I don't really know what to say anymore sometimes.

I sighed. Knowing that maybe... maybe he was full of me.

He was not angry, not cold. Just... tired.

I stared at his message, blank in mind, fingers hovering over my screen and how my chest felt weird tight, just like I swallowed something too heavy.

Me: You don't have to say anything if you don't feel like it hahaha.

I sent it even though I didn't mean it.

I really wanted him to say something. Anything. A dumb joke. A memory. A simple, "I miss how we used to talk." But instead, all I got was:

Tann: Thank you.

The next day, he messaged again. Just one word.

Tann: Hi.

I replied in under 5 seconds.

Me: Uyyy

But he didn't respond after that. And I didn't want to double-text. I told myself to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

It's funny how the shortest word can still leave the longest silence behind.

July 10, 2022

I saw him at church again. This time he smiled like nothing had changed.

"Hey," he said, soft and normal.

I replied just as softly, trying not to show the hundred thoughts running in my head.

He asked me about how I was doing and I just replied as softly as he talked to me.

The conversation flowed, but it felt rehearsed like we were both trying to be who we were a few months ago.

Like we were both scared to admit that we weren't.

I gave him a cookie this time, not polvoron.

He took it, smiled, and said, "I still have the wrapper from before."

I didn't ask which one. But I smiled.

It was stupid, maybe. But it meant something to me.

Maybe it meant something to him, too.

July 14, 2022

He sent a song.

Tann: This reminded me of our convos before. The fun ones.

It was an old track we used to quote lyrics from at 2 a.m.

I listened to it four times. Each time, the lyrics hit differently now. Less like a melody, more like a memory.

I didn't know how to reply.

So I sent an old picture of the polvoron I bought that day, back in May.

Me: Guess who bought this again. 😂

Tann: You never change.

But I had.

And so had he.

We kept texting. Just enough to keep the thread alive. Never quite deep. Never too dry either.

But I could feel it.

There was distance now, like we were talking across a hallway, not sitting beside each other anymore.

And even though we smiled through the screen, I kept wondering:

Would this be the last message?

Would the "typing..." bubble disappear one day and never come back?

But until then, we held on. Even if the rope between us was fraying, we still hadn't let go.

Not yet.