After what happened before, I couldn't stop checking my phone, hoping Sevi would message me. I held my phone almost all day and kept looking at it, even though he was online several times. Still, no message came from him.
I tried to make the first move.
"Hi," I typed.
I waited for him to reply, but half a minute passed and there was still no answer.
"Maybe he's just busy with schoolwork," I whispered to myself.
After an hour, he finally replied.
"Hello, sorry for the late reply. I'm busy," he wrote.
"Ah okay, take your time," I replied.
After that, he didn't send anything else. From that day, we hardly talked like we used to.
Sometimes, I wondered why, but I reminded myself that we were both busy with school and other things. I also thought that maybe he wasn't messaging me because he was talking to his crush.
Even with that thought, a small pang of jealousy stayed in my chest. I told myself it was silly–I wasn't in a relationship with him. We were just friends. Yet, I couldn't help imagining him sitting in class, talking to her, laughing at her jokes.
Did he think about me at all during those moments?
I tried to distract myself.
I buried myself in homework, group projects, and school events. I even joined a few clubs just to stay busy.
But every time my phone buzzed, I found myself checking it, hoping it was him.
One afternoon, while sitting in the library, I caught myself staring at the chat screen again. I whispered to no one,
"Why does it feel like I miss him even though he's just a friend?"
Later that night, I thought about sending him another message.
"Maybe I should ask how his day went," I told myself. My fingers typed slowly.
"Hey, how's your day?"
But before I could hit send, I stopped. What if he didn't want to talk? What if my message annoyed him?
I sighed and put the phone down. The silence of my room felt heavier than usual. The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. I closed my eyes for a moment and imagined him laughing, smiling, and talking to his friends,everything I used to share with him when we chatted more.
The next day, I tried again.
"Hi," I typed, just a simple greeting this time.
He replied quickly this time, but the message was short.
"Hey."
I stared at it. That one word should have been enough, but it wasn't. I wanted more, a little conversation, something that reminded me of the old times.
I typed again, "Are you busy?"
"Yes, a bit," he replied.
And that was it. The conversation ended there. No follow-up, no questions, nothing. Just like that, our talks dwindled into small exchanges that barely lasted a few messages.
I leaned back on my bed, my phone still in my hand. I felt a strange mix of emotions—loneliness, longing, and a small spark of hope. Maybe he would reach out more one day. Maybe things would go back to how they were. But for now, I had to accept that things had changed.
Even though we didn't chat like before, I held onto the memories of our conversations—the little jokes, the small talk at night, the way he made me feel understood. It was enough to remind me that our friendship still mattered, even if it wasn't as constant as before.