Semiel was lying on his bed, unmoving, his face buried in the pillow and his eyes open for hours.
The ceiling of his room had a crack stretching like a vein across the corner. He didn't know how long it had been there. Maybe always, but he only noticed it on days like this. Days when the body feels heavier than it should, even without a fever or real exhaustion.
It had been three days since the meeting at Mía's house. Three days since he exchanged a few words with Saval and then left. He had felt it in his chest, like a burn. Not because of rejection —he had started to accept that— but because of how distance was turning into something ordinary. As if they were leaving him behind without saying it.
He didn't have class until noon, but he didn't want to stay locked in with his thoughts any longer. In the kitchen, he clumsily made coffee, spilling some as he filled the cup.
He didn't care. He leaned against the table while the steam fogged up his glasses
His T-shirt was wrinkled and he was still wearing pajama pants. Everything felt heavier when he tried to distract himself and couldn't. He checked his phone, though he already knew there wouldn't be anything new. A story from George at the university, a selfie of Mía with her cat. And in the messages, silence.
Saval hadn't written.
And neither had he.
He had drafted a "how are you?" or a "going to class today?" more than once, but never sent them. He'd read the words on the screen and they felt hollow, useless. Nothing he said would fix what had broken. And still, he missed him. Missed the unfiltered conversations, the comfortable silences, the dumb little codes they shared. He even missed the uncomfortable silences from the past few days, because at least they were something.
He changed slowly. Grabbed his backpack without checking if he had everything. The campus was a twenty-minute walk if he didn't rush. And today, he didn't feel like running for anything. Not for the bus, not for a grade, not for someone who no longer waited for him.
….
The professor was talking about power networks, symbolic systems, and language as a tool of domination. Topics that usually interested him. But today, every word went right over him, as if it carried no weight.
He thought of Saval as he scribbled meaningless lines on the page. Imagined him in some class, maybe taking notes with that stubborn focus he had when he didn't want to think about anything else. Imagined him laughing with George or quietly listening to David. And for the first time, he wondered if maybe Saval had already moved on. That maybe the silence wasn't sadness, but relief.
That hurt more than he expected.
When class ended, he went down the stairs without greeting anyone. He stood for a while in front of the faculty building, watching people come and go under colorful umbrellas. Then he walked to the café without really knowing why.
He ordered a sandwich he didn't want and a tea that went cold while he checked his phone for the fifth time in half an hour.
Nothing.
Mía had seen his story, David had dropped a message in the group chat to coordinate a project. And Saval still hadn't shown up. No story, no message, not even a casual mention. As if he didn't exist.
As if he didn't exist.