Sara's hands were sticky with gum as she carefully wrapped the small birthday gifts for her mom. The colorful ribbons tangled around her fingers, making the process slower than usual. She hummed softly, lost in thought, when her phone buzzed on the table. Normally, she would've picked it up immediately but her hands were busy. She groaned, trying to keep the ribbons from slipping, and glanced at her little brother, who was lounging nearby.
"Hey… can you check my phone for me?" she asked, her voice slightly tense. "I need to know what the notification is about. I ordered a cake for mom's birthday, so it might be something about that."
Her brother, always curious and teasing, took the phone with a mischievous grin. He squinted at the screen, his eyes widening for a moment. "Uh… sisterr… it says…" He hesitated, then chuckled. "Ah, don't worry. It's not from your cake shop. It's just some… Aliexpress offer."
Sara let out a relieved sigh and turned back to her wrapping, thankful that the mysterious message wasn't something that would ruin her concentration.
But the phone buzzed again..this time an actual call from the cake shop confirming the order. Her brother quickly hopped up, grabbing his jacket. "I'm going to get the cake, don't worry!" he said, leaving her alone in the room.
Everything had happened so fast, and Sara barely had time to glance at her phone again. The day passed in a blur of preparing for her mom's birthday, decorating the room, and keeping track of small details. By the time the small family gathering began, Sara had barely noticed her own exhaustion, her hands still sticky with ribbons and cake frosting. The laughter and chatter around her felt distant, as if she were living in a bubble separate from everyone else.
Finally, after the party ended and her mom thanked her with a warm smile, Sara retreated to her room. She lay on the bed, curling up under her blanket, letting herself exhale for the first time all day. Picking up her phone, she wondered what she should watch to distract herself. After the breakup, she had been avoiding almost everyone online, carefully curating her presence to escape reminders of him.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a stranger, an offer, or a random notification—it was Yomin.
"Sara… are you okay? Did something happen? Is that why you haven't been online?"
She took a deep breath, feeling a small comfort in seeing his name. "No, Yomin… I was busy with my mom's birthday stuff, that's why I couldn't come online," she typed back, her fingers trembling slightly.
There was a pause, then his reply came. "So… aren't you tired? You should rest. Don't stay on the phone or you'll get a headache. Just sleep, Sara. You need rest."
Sara smiled faintly. He always knew exactly what to say. Yomin cared in ways no one else did, he remembered how easily her head hurt when she pushed herself, how fragile she sometimes felt inside. She typed a quick "Okay… thanks," then set the phone aside, letting herself drift into the quiet comfort of sleep.
But sleep did not come. Her phone buzzed again —zzz zzzzbzzz bzzz— persistent. She picked it up reluctantly, expecting another casual message. And then… her breath caught.
Tears started falling immediately, without warning, like an ocean breaking through a dam. Her heart stopped for a moment, her chest tightening as if she couldn't breathe. The notification showed multiple long paragraphs from him—the ex who had shattered her heart months ago. She hadn't opened them, couldn't, because she knew that if she did, her fragile control would shatter, and she'd respond, she'd care, she'd allow herself to feel again.
Her hands shook, her fingers trembling as she scrolled the notification bar just enough to read a fragment:
> "Sara, I'm alone… I don't have anyone. After I left you, I started to realize who loved me the most. I left because… you were too good for me. I thought your parents would never let us be together because of my religion. I was scared… scared I'd hurt you. I know I've been foolish… you are the purest, most innocent, loving person I've ever met. Please, just give me one chance. I can't stop thinking about you… I love you more than you know, Sara…"
Even reading that small portion made her chest ache like a physical pain. Her tears poured freely, hot and unstoppable, streaking her face as she lay back on the bed. She knew if she opened the full messages, she would collapse under the weight of her emotions. The words he sent were everything she had ever wanted to hear, but also everything she feared—because they reminded her of the day she had cried until her heart melted into a puddle of raw, fragile love.
Her heartbeat was uneven, her breaths shallow. She whispered to herself, "I can't… I can't do this… not again."
But part of her wanted desperately to open the messages, to read every word, to know that he truly felt the love she had given him so completely. Her fingers hovered over the screen, shaking.
"Should I…?" she murmured, tears falling freely.
Her mind raced. Every instinct screamed to stay away, to protect herself. But another part—the part that still ached and still loved—wanted to dive into those paragraphs, to immerse herself in the words she had waited so long to hear.
Her guitar leaned against the chair, silent and forgotten. Music usually gave her refuge, but tonight, even her melodies couldn't calm the storm inside. Her heart throbbed with the ache of love and betrayal, longing and fear, all tangled together.
She wiped her tears roughly with the back of her hand, trying to regain control. She told herself, He hurt me once. I cannot… I will not… Yet she couldn't stop staring at the phone, feeling the pull of the messages like a tide she had no strength to resist.
Somewhere deep down, she realized that these words—words of regret, of love, of longing—were a test of her own heart. Would she stay safe in her solitude, or would she allow herself to feel again, even knowing the risk of heartbreak?
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of her phone, buzzing relentlessly with messages she hadn't yet opened. Her tears slowed, but her chest still ached. She whispered again, almost to herself, "I loved him… and even if he left, even if it hurts… I can't stop feeling."
Sara's hands finally dropped the phone to her side. She lay there, letting herself cry, letting herself ache. She didn't respond, didn't open the messages, but she felt something stir inside her—a fragile, trembling hope that maybe, just maybe, love could return in a way that wouldn't destroy her again.
The night stretched on, and Sara drifted into an uneasy sleep, her dreams filled with fragmented words, past memories, and the impossible pull of someone who had once been her entire world.
Even in sleep, her heart couldn't ignore him, couldn't ignore the truth she carried deep inside: she had loved him more than anyone, more than she ever wanted to admit, and somehow… that love was still alive.