Page 133 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

Relieved that I didn’t have to say everything I had been holding in.

Relieved that the moment passed before it could turn into something heavier.

Because what if I didn’t like the answer?

So I let it go… just like he did.

Just like he always did.

We picked out soap. Argued over scents. He said something smelled too sweet. I told him he had no taste. He bumped his shoulder to mine. I laughed.

And just like that, we were okay again.

On Friday morning, I woke up before my alarm.

Instinctively, I reached for my phone and stared at the screen for a second. Then, just like breathing, I opened our conversation and typed ‘Good morning!’

Simple. Safe.

I hit send and set my phone down beside me, staring at the ceiling with an exhale so deep it made me dizzy.

I got up immediately. Made breakfast. Took a shower. Let the morning stretch into something productive, so that my day wouldn’t revolve around waiting for his reply.

So I told myself not to check.

Not immediately.

Just eventually.

His name sat there at the top of the screen, unread. I stared at it for a second longer than I should have… then locked the phone.

It was fine.

He was probably busy.

So, I went back to what I was doing.

I tried to stay in the buzz of my work and tried not to let my mind wander into places I had already been before.

But habits don’t disappear easily.

They just wait until something triggers them again.

So I checked my phone again—just a quick glance, nothing intentional.

And then I saw him online on Messenger. That small green dot sitting on top of his profile picture, which meant he was already awake… that he was there… just not for me.

I paused—not dramatically, but just enough to feel it. That familiar, quiet drop in my stomach.

Because I had seen this before. Felt this before. Learned this pattern before.

The space between available and reply.

I swallowed, locked my phone again, and placed it down this time, as if that would change anything.

However, unlike before, I didn’t text again, because I already knew how that would look. And I wasn’t trying to be that version of myself anymore—the one who needed too much.

So I adjusted… again.