We Never Said Goodbye
Morning didn't feel like morning.
Mark had barely slept. The messages from the night before spun in his head like a record stuck on a painful verse—on repeat, sharp and steady. He had turned his phone off after seeing the word "Seen." No replies. No clarifications.
But the silence had screamed all night.
Now, sunlight poured through his window like it had no idea what was going on inside him. His tea had gone cold again. His room was quiet, the kind of quiet that doesn't soothe, only weighs heavier.
He sat by the dining table, stirring the cup absentmindedly. The clinking spoon sounded louder than usual in the morning hush. His mother had already left for work, leaving a note near the sugar tin: "There's food on the stove, and don't forget to eat on time."
He didn't have the appetite. Only questions.
Why had her boyfriend messaged him like that? Why that tone? That invasion? That need to push him away?
He picked up his phone. Turned it back on.
Buzz.
Aria 🧃 (9:21 AM):
"MORNINGGGGG 🌞"
"Wake up, lazy loaf. You missed my frog meme drop."
His heart stopped for a second.
The same tone. The same randomness. The same Aria.
As if nothing had happened.
Mark stared at the message, eyebrows furrowed. His fingers hovered above the keyboard.
She didn't know.
She had no clue about what happened last night. No hint of confrontation, no explanation, no change.
Mark leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. Something between heartbreak and confusion crept in. He remembered every word her boyfriend typed. Every line.
"Don't message her again."
"She never told me about you."
"She's mine."
"Where do you live? How old are you?"
He'd felt interrogated. Violated. Reduced.
And now—
Here she was. Texting like always.
Like nothing was broken.
He let out a breath. He didn't want to make it awkward. Didn't want to throw it in her face if she didn't even know. But he couldn't pretend either.
He typed slowly.
Mark (9:29 AM):
"You're way too energetic in the morning for a human being."
Aria 🧃:
"You're just jealous. Also, you didn't respond to last night's frog meme. It was life-changing."
He forced a small smile.
Mark:
"Sorry. Slept early. Needed a break from my phone."
Aria 🧃:
"You okay tho?"
He paused.
The most honest answer would've been no.
No, I'm not.
No, your boyfriend thinks I'm some stranger trying to break you two apart.
No, I've been spiraling since he told me not to message you again.
But she didn't know.
And for some reason, that made it harder.
Mark:
"Yeah. Just tired. Head full of weird thoughts."
Aria 🧃:
"Weird as in what? Existential? Frogs doing taxes?"
He chuckled. It was weak. But it was real.
Mark:
"Maybe both. Multiverse stuff."
Aria 🧃:
"Well, if I find a frog accountant meme, I'll cheer you up. That's my job."
Mark let the phone rest in his hand. He could hear her voice in the text. Still playful. Still hers.
And yet… something inside him felt distant.
He wasn't mad at her. How could he be? She didn't know. But his mind had gone through so much in the hours she had been offline that it was hard to just bounce back.
He replied sparingly now. Shorter messages. Slightly colder tone. Not rude. Never rude. Just distant.
Aria 🧃:
"You sure you're okay? You're replying like a 40-year-old uncle today."
Mark:
"Guess I'm aging fast."
He didn't have the energy to lie convincingly.
He cooked a little that afternoon. Some quick rice and scrambled eggs—something familiar, something grounding. He wasn't hungry, but it gave him an illusion of control.
His mind wandered. To how easy it had been to talk to her before. To how safe she made him feel. How normal. And now, all it took was someone else's insecurity to make him question his place in her life.
He wasn't angry. He was just… broken in a quieter way.
Later that evening, he opened Instagram. He wasn't planning to scroll much, but Aria had posted a new story.
A soft picture. A poem line. A shoutout.
It read:
"Nothing inspires like the quiet elegance of my elder sister."
Her elder sister.
He tapped on the tag out of curiosity.
The profile was private. A minimal bio. A few mutuals. And a name.
Thea.
He stared at the profile for a while. Felt nothing and everything.
His thumb hesitated. Then slowly, he hit "Follow."
This is the end of Arc 1