The first two days weren't so bad.
Adrian called. They talked. They laughed a little.
He sounded tired, but warm. Present. Still himself.
Lila told herself everything was fine.
But by the fourth day, the calls became shorter.
By the sixth day, he missed one.
By the eighth day, she found herself staring at her phone more than she wanted to admit.
Not obsessively.
Just... waiting.
And waiting is a dangerous place for the mind.
Because when there is silence, thoughts begin to speak.
Maybe he's busy.
Maybe he's tired.
Maybe nothing is wrong.
But another voice whispered quietly:
Or maybe something changed.
She hated that voice.
Because it sounded like fear. And fear sounded like the past.
At work, she tried to focus on writing, but her mind drifted.
She reread the same paragraph three times and still couldn't remember what it said.
Her colleague joked with her, but she barely heard it.
Even laughter felt distant these days.
One evening, she sat alone on the balcony of her apartment, watching the city lights flicker in the distance.
The air was cool.
The world felt quiet.
And for the first time in weeks, she admitted something to herself:
She missed him.
Not just his voice. Not just his presence.
She missed the way she felt when he was around.
Safe. Seen. Calm.
Now everything felt slightly... empty.
Her phone buzzed suddenly.
Her heart jumped.
But it wasn't Adrian.
Just a promotional message.
She sighed softly and set the phone down.
And that was when the doubt began to grow stronger.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just a slow, creeping thought:
What if this fades?
She hated herself for thinking it.
But she had seen it happen before.
People promising to stay... and then slowly disappearing, not all at once, but piece by piece.
That night, she dreamed of the park bench where they had first kissed.
In the dream, she was sitting there alone.
And when she woke up, her chest felt tight in a way she couldn't explain.
The next day, Adrian finally called.
Her heart lifted instantly when she saw his name.
But when she answered, something felt... different.
His voice was softer than usual.
Tired.
"How are you?" he asked.
"I'm okay," she replied.
But she wasn't sure that was true anymore.
They talked for a few minutes, but the conversation felt careful, like both of them were stepping around something unsaid.
When the call ended, she sat there holding the phone, feeling more restless than before.
Because sometimes...
Hearing someone's voice isn't enough.
Sometimes you need to feel their presence.
That evening, the rain began again.
Lila stood by her window, watching the drops slide down the glass.
She remembered the first night they met.
How unexpected it had been.
How calm she had felt standing under that umbrella beside him.
She closed her eyes and whispered softly, almost to herself:
"Don't let this become another memory."
Meanwhile, miles away, Adrian sat alone in a quiet room, staring at his phone.
He had almost called her again.
Almost told her everything.
But something was holding him back.
Not distance.
Not work.
Something heavier.
And he knew... sooner or later, he would have to tell her the truth.