Page 161 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

God, I missed him!

I missed him in a way that felt physical, like something had been taken out of me, and my body didn’t know how to function without it.

And I couldn’t take it anymore.

So I grabbed my phone again and opened our messages.

I stared at it for a few seconds, thinking about what to say.

Then I started typing.

Hey, I know you’re mad at me, and I get it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I was just frustrated because I just wanted to be there for you. I didn’t mean to make things worse. I feel awful and selfish. I’m so sorry.

I still love you.

I read it once. Twice. Three times. Many times, thinking how I could soften it. Fix it. Or make it land better.

But then I pressed send.

The message sat there, but I didn’t wait for a reply, because I knew he was asleep.

So I locked my phone and held it against my chest, like it could give something back.

And eventually, exhaustion pulled me under again.

When I woke up, the light was already too bright.

10:02 A.M.

I was late for work, but I didn’t move right away. Because before anything else—before work, before panic, before reality—I reached for my phone, opened it, and… nothing.

My chest caved in.

I swallowed, forcing myself to breathe, trying to reason through it.

Maybe he was still asleep?

Maybe he saw it and didn’t know what to say yet?

Maybe—

I opened Instagram, and there he was. Online. Right now.

The air left my lungs, my vision spinning, like the world tilted slightly off its axis under the weight of the glorious pain twisting in my heart.

Because it meant he had his phone… he was awake… he just didn’t reply.

I stared at it longer than I should have, trying to understand if this was torture, and that if this was his way of punishing me: silence.

To me, it seemed so cruel.

The green dot stayed.

And so did the silence.

My vision blurred even more before I realized I was crying again.

Four days later and still nothing.