If she was being honest to herself, she was feeling worried. Worried about his silence. Worried what he might be feeling or doing...if he was hurting or...maybe very happy now. Whenever the latter comes to mind, she tries to prepare herself over and over for seeing him that way – happy. Probably with Jane. She reminded herself that it was her decision to let him be. To end things with him. To let him be happy. So she should be happy now. She just had to live through the decision she chose.
She missed him. He was some years younger than her so she supposed it was why she thought he was annoying with his antics at times. It was cute half of the time, half of it just exasperating. He was mischievous and affectionate, and he sometimes acted like an unpleasant child but she missed him. He was her annoying, unpleasant brat.
She missed his encouragements. No matter what, he listened to whatever she needed and wanted to say and would share his own thoughts about them seriously. It was when he seemed most like a man to her. He rarely showed it but he gave a lot of thought to anything and anyone he cared about.
One week since he called and ever since then, she hadn't heard from him. No message, no call, nothing.
She was worried. Then she realized she had no right to worry about him.
Most nights she lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come while missing him. Thinking of him, her memories of him. There were tears – a lot of them. It hurt but she thought it was necessary. She had to let him go completely.
Twice, she caught herself about to dial his number. It was more difficult than she thought, sending him away.
She wondered how he would react when they would see each other again. There was no other option, they would see each other. It was impossible not to see him again at the office, at the next concert, in their next photo shoot.
Would he be hurting like her? Or would he pretend not to know her?
Would he be with Jane?
She tried to go as normally as possible with her scheduled work, her life. No one would know, she vowed, that she was hurting. It wasn't necessary to hurt other people who cared for her as well.
Outside, she looked fine. Once she was inside her door, everything shattered. She hardly ate. She had no appetite. Once a day, she would. She had to. Keeping up with appearances.
It wasn't enough. The fatigue and that general unwell-ness that most described that something she felt took over. On the 6th day, there was a high fever and coughing and difficulty getting out of bed. She missed him then more than ever.
Of course there were a few people around her who knew. Diana, her flatmate, had scolded her of course, when she came home from work and found her in her room in the same state she left in. She brought some store bought porridge for her. Diana’s advice was so stop thinking of him and to eat and rest properly.
"I swear! I'll stay here in your room and watch you if I have to so I'll know if you're eating and sleeping!" If she was trying to cheer her up, it didn't work. Diana let her cry though, and exhausted, she finally fell in a deep sleep. The first in days. It might have been the cold medicine Diana had given her but it didn’t matter.
Sunday, exactly one week after his last call, found her feeling a little bit better. Diana left that morning with food that would last her at least two days. Feeling grateful, she sent her a message and a promise of a lunch date once she got completely better.
She turned on the TV for something to do when she woke a few hours after lunch but eventually, the meds took over and she fell asleep again on the couch. Waking up to the sound of tinkling plates and running water, she sat up and realized somewhat belatedly that she was in bed, in her room. It looked like Diana made good on her promise. Or was serious about her threat anyway.
