Ellie stared at the ceiling, the lemon-patterned blanket tangled around her like a safety net. The faint hum of the city outside felt distant, almost unreal. Her mind replayed the scene over and over — Jason's phone lighting up with that name, the heart emoji, the grin that wasn't meant for her.
It was like a punch she didn't see coming, but one that knocked the air out of her anyway.
Her heart wasn't shattered. It was bruised, slow to heal, and stubbornly raw.
She tried to will herself to focus on the day ahead. Work at the café, people needing coffee, orders to memorize. Simple things. But the weight in her chest made even the thought feel heavy.
She caught her reflection in the mirror — messy hair, eyes a little red-rimmed, lips pressed thin.
"Get it together, Ellie," she whispered.
But it wasn't that easy.
She remembered the way Jason laughed at her clumsy croissant drop—how his eyes had lit up when she finally made him that weird "black coffee and deep thoughts" order. That flicker of hope she'd let herself feel, before it all came crashing down.
She buried her face in the caramel swirl ice cream, the cold sweetness a poor substitute for the warmth she'd been craving.
Texting Max was the only thing that felt normal.
Ellie:
I'm a mess. Why do feelings have to be so messy?
His reply came quickly.
Max:
Because they're supposed to be. You're not broken — just… human.
That small comfort made her chest ache a little less.
Later, at the café, Ellie forced a smile as customers chatted and the espresso machine hissed. The familiar rhythm was soothing but hollow. She watched the door expectantly, half-wishing Jason would walk in and change everything, half-dreading it.
But he didn't.
Instead, she found herself glancing at her phone, waiting for a message from Max — the stranger who somehow knew exactly what to say.
Because even when the world felt like it was closing in, those little digital threads kept her tethered to something real.
Something hopeful.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.