*Chapter 6: The Message*

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I did something I didn't want to admit—not even to myself.

I unblocked Josh.

No one knew. I didn't tell anyone.

Because some foolish part of me still hoped he'd notice.

That he'd reach out. That he'd trust me enough to explain what really happened. That he'd *try*.

But he didn't.

For two whole weeks, my phone stayed painfully silent.

No calls. No texts. Nothing.

He made no effort. No move.

Not even a single emoji. Not even a mistake text I could overthink.

And that silence?

It was its own kind of answer.

One that hurt more than any truth ever could.

Then today—out of nowhere—he messaged me.

Just like that. As if I hadn't been breaking in the dark.

As if I hadn't unblocked him in secret, hoping for something, anything.

As if I hadn't been left to carry the weight of what I saw all alone.

What am I to him?

Some piece of trash he can toss aside and return to when he's bored?

Something disposable?

Someone who bleeds but is expected to smile when called?

I'm not a placeholder.

I'm not a second option.

And I'm definitely not his afterthought.

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As I sat in my car, staring blankly at the dashboard, another message came in.

I glanced at my phone.

Josh. Again.

My chest tightened. I hesitated—fingers hovering over the screen.

Curiosity won.

I opened the message.

*"Hi."*

A pause.

Then: *"Can we talk?"*

That was it.

No context. No emotion. Just three cold, careless words.

I scoffed and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, shaking my head.

Of course. Now he wants to talk.

I started the car, the engine humming to life beneath the silence.

I pulled out onto the road, heart pounding, thoughts racing louder than the traffic around me.

I didn't even know where I was going. I just drove.

Away from the noise. Away from him.

Away from the memory of that night and the look in his eyes I couldn't unsee.

But a few minutes later, I pulled over. Parked.

And sat there—in stillness.

Then, reluctantly, I picked up the phone.

And I replied.

Not because he deserved it.

But because I needed to hear what lie he'd tell next.

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*"Where?"*

I typed it casually, like it didn't matter.

Like my heart hadn't jumped just typing it.

Like I wasn't already preparing myself to be hurt again.

Then I waited.

Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes into longer.

The silence from my phone was heavier than the air in the car.

And then…

*Ping.*

His reply finally came.

*"My place."*

Just two words.

No apology.

No explanation.

No acknowledgment of the two weeks of silence or what they did to me.

He wanted me to come to *his* place.

Like nothing had happened.

Like I hadn't spent night after night trying to erase the image of him doing the unthinkable.

I locked my phone, dropped it on the seat beside me, and leaned back.

The road ahead was clear.

But my heart?

It was anything but.

I had a decision to make.

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