My hand slides the phone out, my thumb swiping the screen alive.My eyes scan the notification bar with ridiculous, desperate hope.
Nothing.
No reply from Matthew.
Not a word since I hit send in what feels like a lifetime ago.The screen glows impassively back at me, offering only silence.
Disappointment quickly sours into a sickening dread.
He got it.
He must have.
He’s ignoring it.
Maybe comparing him to James, after everything, was truly the final, unforgivable blow.
Maybe he is done with me.
My thumb hovers over his number again, the urge to call and force a response building into a suffocating pressure in my chest.But instead, I lock the screen with a decisive click.I shove the phone deep into my back pocket, as if distance could quell the anxiety.
Okay.
Work.
I have to get through closing.
Pasting on a mask of weary competence, I turn away from my desk, away from the unanswered message, and head back out to face the final stretch.
When the last lingering customer departs into the evening air, I turn the sign to ‘Closed’.Helen finishes wiping down the espresso machine and dims the main lights, leaving the space in the softer glow of closing time.
We hoist the chairs onto the tables, mop the floor and balance the till.Helen gathers her purse and jacket from the back room.As she heads towards the front door, she pauses, turning back to look at me.
“You sure you’re going to be okay here tonight,mija?”she asks quietly, her gaze sweeping the shadowy corners of the café.
“Don’t worry, it’s not my first night here,” I remind her.
She scoffs, shaking her head.“Just promise me you’ll lock up after me and also lock your office door from the inside before you go to sleep, okay?”
“I promise,” I reassure her with a small smile.“Fort Knox.Don’t worry about me.”
“Don’t joke.It’s not funny,” she scolds.
“Sorry, you’re right.Not funny,” I concede, walking up to her.“I promise to lock everything, and I’ll see you bright and early.”
“Bueno.Call me if you need anything at all.”She gives a hesitant little wave.“Buenas noches, Ames.Get some rest.”
“Thank you.You too, Helen.”
I watch her leave, then slide the deadbolt behind her, as promised.I listen as her footsteps fade away down the sidewalk.The silence crashes down, pressing in from all sides.
Alone.
Again.
But the quiet offers no peace, only space for the unanswered questions about Matthew to echo louder.His silence since my text has smothered the fragile hope I barely dared to acknowledge.
My hand, almost of its own accord, retrieves the phone from my back pocket.
