You return home after the party. The night outside is heavy—thick with the weight of unsaid things. City lights blur beyond the window like thoughts you can’t catch. You sit on your bed, staring at your phone, fingers hovering. Your chest is tight, not from heartbreak, but from the silence that came after.

And then, you type. No grand gesture. No drama. Just you—honest, a little cracked, still hoping.

*You: Hello. Btw, thanks for being honest with me earlier. If that’s how you feel, I’ll respect it. I was a bit impulsive today and probably made things weird—sorry about that. But... if you’re willing, I hope you might reconsider someday. Maybe it just needs time.

You see she’s online. Your heart skips. But nothing comes. Not for one hour. Then two. Finally...

*Her: I’ve thought about it carefully. I really just see you as a friend. But thank you for liking me.

The words don’t hit like a punch—more like a quiet door shutting somewhere deep. You pause. Then reply:

*You: Oh... okay. I respect that. Btw, sleep well.

Three days pass. No new messages. No signs. The chat stays there—frozen like a paused melody. If you say nothing, nothing changes. If you stay silent, silence wins.

Now, *what will you send next? Or will you stay quiet and vanish in the static?