Chapter 7: Almost
Sophie stared at her phone, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. The soft glow of the screen illuminated the dimly lit apartment, casting shadows on the walls. Jack's last message sat unread for the past ten minutes, though she'd seen the notification instantly. It was a simple message, nothing weighty—Long day. You still awake?—but it carried an unspoken weight between them.
Their last conversation still echoed in her mind. The moment he'd suggested a call, the hesitation she'd felt, the way she had changed the subject at the last second. She had spent the past two days telling herself she'd made the right choice. Meeting—or even just hearing his voice—could change everything. The anonymity of their connection was safe, and she wasn't sure she was ready to let that go. But the longer she waited to respond, the more she wondered if she had made a mistake.
Finally, she typed back: Yeah, still awake. You?
The response came almost immediately. Wide awake. Mind won't shut off.
Sophie exhaled softly. Same.
She hesitated before adding another message: About the other night…
A long pause. Then: You don't have to explain, Soph.
The way he used her name—it was rare, but when he did, it always sent a quiet thrill through her. She could almost hear the softness in his voice, despite never having heard it before.
I know, she typed back, but I want to.
Another pause. Then: Okay.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. I wanted to say yes. To the call. I almost did.
His response took a little longer this time. What stopped you?
She stared at the screen, willing herself to type out the truth. She'd spent so long avoiding vulnerability, keeping things at a comfortable distance. But Jack wasn't just some stranger anymore. He was a constant, a presence she had come to rely on. Maybe he deserved more than half-truths and avoidance.
I think I'm scared that hearing your voice will make this too real. And if it's real… I don't know what happens next.
The typing indicator blinked on, then off. On again. Off. Then finally: I get that.
That was it. Three simple words, but somehow, it made her chest ache. He wasn't pushing, wasn't demanding more than she was ready to give.
Sophie curled up on her couch, tucking her legs beneath her. Can I ask you something?
Always.
She hesitated, then typed: What's something you've never told anyone?
It was bold, maybe even unfair, considering how much she held back. But Jack didn't hesitate this time.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer. Not a photographer. A writer.
That surprised her. He had never mentioned anything like that before. Why didn't you?
Because writing is too personal. Too vulnerable. Taking pictures? That's capturing someone else's story. Writing is exposing your own.
Sophie traced her finger absentmindedly along the edge of her phone. I think you'd be a good writer, she admitted. You already are, in a way. The things you say… they stay with me.
A pause. Then: You stay with me, too.
She swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. She had asked him to share something personal, so maybe it was only fair she did the same.
I've never told anyone this before, she typed, but sometimes I feel like I've built my whole life on being careful. Like I'm living safely instead of actually living.
Her hands trembled slightly as she hit send. There. She had said it.
Jack's response came slower this time, as if he was weighing his words. Do you think that's why you didn't say yes to the call?
Sophie bit her lip. Maybe.
Do you regret it?
She didn't know how to answer that. She wasn't sure she wanted to.
Instead, she typed: Ask me again sometime.
His reply came seconds later. I will.
Sophie placed her phone down on the couch beside her, exhaling shakily. The line between them had blurred even more tonight, and she wasn't sure if she was more afraid of crossing it—or of never crossing it at all.