She was always there.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just… there.
“Did you eat?” she asked softly, holding out the lunchbox.
He didn’t even look up from his phone.
“I’m busy.”
“Oh… okay,” she smiled, even though her fingers tightened around the box.
“I’ll wait.”
He never noticed that she always waited.
That night, rain poured like the sky was crying for her.
She stood outside his apartment, soaked, shaking—her phone clutched in her hand.
“I just wanted to tell you,” she whispered when he finally opened the door, “I got the job offer abroad.”
He frowned. “And?”
“And… I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
He laughed lightly. “You’re overreacting. You’ll be back in a week. You always are.”
Her smile broke.
“No,” she said quietly.
“This time… I won’t.”
He rolled his eyes. “Do whatever you want.”
She nodded.
“That’s what I’m doing.”
She turned away, and for the first time—
she didn’t look back.
The silence came slowly.
No messages asking if he was home.
No reminders to sleep early.
No warm voice saying his name like it meant something.
Three days later, he stared at his phone.
“Why isn’t she calling?” he muttered.
A week passed.
Then a month.
One night, drunk and angry, he called her.
Straight to voicemail.
He slammed the phone down.
“Fine. Don’t come back.”
But his room felt empty.
His life felt… hollow.
Two years later.
The café smelled like coffee and rain.
He froze when he saw her.
She was laughing—soft, confident, beautiful in a way that hurt.
“She…” his voice cracked.
“She’s here?”
She looked up.
Their eyes met.
For the first time, she didn’t rush toward him.
“Hi,” she said calmly.
“It’s been a long time.”
He stood up too fast.
“I—why didn’t you come back?”
She tilted her head. “You told me to do whatever I wanted.”
His throat tightened.
“I didn’t mean it.”
She smiled—not sad, not angry.
“I know,” she said.
“That’s why it hurt.”
They sat in silence.
Finally, he whispered, “I loved you.”
She looked at him then, really looked.
“No,” she replied gently.
“You loved me after I left.”
His eyes filled.
“Can we… start again?”
She stood up, picked up her bag.
“I already did,” she said softly.
“Just… without you.”
She walked away.
And this time—
he was the one left waiting.
