Eventually, I put my phone down and sat in the quiet of the room, letting the weight of the day settle around me. The shadows crept across the walls, stretching longer as time passed. I wondered what tomorrow would bring—if it would be more silence, or if maybe it would be a step closer to understanding each other. For now, all I could do was wait, holding tight to the hope that small acts could slowly rebuild what felt fragile.
I finally typed out a message.
Me: You’re allowed to need space. I just hope you know I’m still here.
I hovered over send, then hit it before I could second-guess myself.
A few minutes later, just as I was getting ready to call it a night, my phone lit up with a call.
My heart thudded. I answered immediately.
“Hey.”
There was a pause. “Hey,” she said back, voice soft, a little scratchy. She sounded tired. Worn thin.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d respond,” I admitted.
“Me neither,” she said. “But I didn’t want to just disappear. That’s what I used to do. I’d ghost people and call it self-preservation.”
“That’s not what this is,” I said. “You’re still here. Talking to me.”
She exhaled, a little laugh buried in it. “Don’t give me too much credit. I almost hung up twice.”
I smiled. “You doing okay?”
“No,” she said, honest as ever. “I’m freaking out a little. I can’t sleep. My brain’s running in circles. And I didn’t want to dump this on anyone, but…” She trailed off.
“But you called me.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Because you’re the only one who actually sees him for what he is. I mean, that’s mostly my fault for not telling anyone but?—”
My grip on the phone tightened. “You don’t have to explain. Just talk to me. I’m here.”
She did. She didn’t tell me everything. But it was enough to crack the surface. She told me about how Graham had always made things feel like her fault. How he could twist a moment until she second-guessed herself. I didn’t interrupt. I let her speak until the words ran dry.
“I’m sorry,” she said eventually. “I didn’t mean to make you my emotional dumping ground.”
“You didn’t,” I said. “But I don’t want you carrying this alone. And I don’t want you shutting down again.”
“Yeah. Me neither, I’m sorry I shut down on you.”
“It’s okay. I care about you, Eliza. I mean it.”
“I… I care about you as well,” she murmured. I could almost see her cheeks flushing a soft pink, that inherent shyness peeking out from under her usual sharp wit.
“You doing anything tomorrow?” I asked.
There was a pause, the kind that settled between words and made the silence feel heavy. I could hear her quiet sniffs on the line, how she tried to hide them, and it made my chest tighten. I hated knowing she was upset. I didn’t say anything. Didn’t push. I just listened, letting the stillness speak for me, letting her know I was there and I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Not really.” She finally answered. “Just work.”
“Come to lunch,” I said. “Late, like before. No pressure. Just burgers. And maybe a cherry pie milkshake if you eat all yourfood,” I teased to lighten the mood and show her I was here for her.
She hesitated, her breathing barely audible over the line. “I…”
I wanted to reach out to bridge the distance between us, but all I could offer was patience. “You know, it doesn’t have to be a big thing. Something normal, something easy. I also have something I want to run by you.” I kept my voice gentle, hoping it would make things simpler for her. The invitation hung in the air, not demanding, just waiting for her to pick it up if she wanted.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
