She didn't suddenly decide to revive a dead chat for sexts.
More likely, she tapped the wrong name.
My name.
She meant this for someone else, some other man who gets to touch her now. Likely, a younger bastard who gets to see those curves in person instead of through a screen.
Someone she thought about when she spread her legs, when she typed those words.
I tell myself I should be glad she moved on. She isn't frozen in the past, and this is what I wanted for her, a full life with a young, age-appropriate partner.
My chest answers that thought with a hard, tight ache. I'm not having it because she's mine. She'smine.
I tap into the keyboard before I can talk myself out of it.
Lena.
I hit send. The word sits under the photo and her message and looks small.
Nothing happens.
I add five more words, because any more would sound weak.
I need to see you.
Send.
Those words at least are true. I needed to see her the day she walked out of my house without a goodbye.
I needed to see her when I realized weeks later that she was not coming back for anything, not even a fight.
I needed to see her when my texts dropped into silence.
I needed to see her through five years of dates that felt hollow and nights in hotels that felt even worse.
This is the first time I have admitted it to myself in a full sentence.
The message gets delivered. Two blue ticks appear under both texts. She has read them.
I wait.
A minute passes. Then another. I stare at the phone and tell myself she's thinking of a reply. Typing and deleting.
Maybe laughing at me.
Maybe shaking.
Maybe naked still, hand between her legs, because my ego is suicidal and enjoys pain.
Ten minutes pass. The chat stays quiet.
I set the phone down and scrub both hands over my face. If I sit here any longer, I'll start talking to myself, and that is the point where my brothers in arms will stage an intervention.
I stand, cross the room, and grab my go-bag from the closet. It lives there packed for emergencies.
The contents are a little outdated.
I tip it on the bed and dump it out. Shirt, jeans, socks, underwear. I change the shirts for fresher ones, throw in a second pair of boots, check that my passport and ID kit are in the side pocket.
