The calendar turned to March. The weather was starting to warm, and so were the deadlines.
Ellie sat in the corner of the university library, laptop open, highlighter between her teeth. The books around her looked like walls—soft paper walls built to keep her from thinking too much.
She hadn't heard Ady's voice in five days.
It was their longest silence so far.
There were no fights, no cold messages, no dramatic goodbyes. Just… life getting in the way. Projects. Exams. Group meetings. Sleep that didn't come easy.
They had promised to still talk once a week. "Or at least twice a month if things get busy," Ady had said.
It had only been five days.
But five days felt like fifty when you were used to hearing someone's voice every night.
"Sorry, just tired."
Ellie stared at her phone.
Ellie: Good luck sa quiz bukas. Study hard ha. Miss you.
Sent. Seen. No reply.
She swallowed hard.
It wasn't like Ady to ignore her. He wasn't the type to play games. He was probably just tired. Maybe he fell asleep.
Maybe.
At 1:12 AM, her phone buzzed.
Ady: Sorry. Just got home from school. Super drained. Goodnight, El.
Just four sentences. But they hurt more than they should have.
Ellie didn't reply.
She didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound needy or dramatic.
Ashley Notices
Two days later, Ellie was walking to her next class when Ashley grabbed her arm around hers.
"You okay?" Ashley asked.
Ellie gave a tired smile. "Just school."
Ashley raised an eyebrow. "It's not just school. You've been zoning out a lot lately. You and Ady… okay?"
Ellie hesitated. Then shrugged. "We're fine. Just not talking as much."
Ashley looked at her. "Is that his idea or yours?"
"Both, I guess," Ellie said quietly. "Finals are coming."
"Do you still talk at all?"
"Sometimes. Late replies. Short messages."
Ashley frowned. "And how are you handling that?"
Ellie laughed bitterly. "I overthink for a living, Ash. How do you think I'm handling it?"
Ashley wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Want to rant later over milk tea?"
"Please."
Ady's Side
Meanwhile, Ady sat in front of his laptop, a half-finished PowerPoint glowing on the screen. His phone was face-down beside his keyboard. His planner was full. His mind, even more so.
He hadn't called Ellie in days.
Not because he didn't want to.
Because he was afraid he didn't have the energy to give her what she deserved. And he didn't want to sound tired, or distant, or distracted. So he avoided it.
But every time he did, he felt guilt crawl up his chest.
He missed her. He really did.
But right now, his plate was overflowing. Presentations. Thesis drafts. Group mates that didn't respond. He barely had time to eat.
Still, a part of him kept whispering:
She probably thinks you don't care anymore.
He stared at his phone.
No new messages.
Maybe she was tired of waiting too.
The Message Ellie Didn't Send
That night, Ellie typed a message:
Hey. I miss you. Not in a clingy way. Just in a… I wish I could talk to you without wondering if I'm bothering you kind of way.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then she deleted it.
She didn't want to seem insecure. Or desperate. Or too much.
Instead, she just typed:
Hope you're okay.
Sent.
Seen.
No reply.
Joseph Advice
It was a Friday night. Ellie was walking home from campus with Ken, a classmate who had become one of her close friends.
"You look like you've been crying," Joseph said as he handed her bottled water.
"I haven't," Ellie lied.
Joseph didn't push. He just waited.
Eventually, she sighed. "You ever feel like someone's slowly slipping away from you… and you're scared to ask them why?"
Joseph nodded. "All the time. Usually when people are too tired to admit they're not okay."
"I don't know if I should ask him what's wrong, or just give him space."
"Maybe both," Joseph said gently. "Sometimes love isn't about constant presence. It's about being someone's safe place even when they're too tired to talk."
Ellie looked at him. "But what if they forget you're waiting?"
Joseph looked back. "Then maybe they weren't meant to stay."
Ellie's throat tightened.
She didn't want that to be true.
The next evening, her phone rang.
It was Ady.
Ellie's heart jumped.
She answered quickly. "Hey."
"Hey," he said, voice lower than usual. "Sorry, I know it's been a while."
"It's okay," she said, trying not to sound too eager.
"I've just been… overwhelmed," Ady said. "School's killing me."
"Same here," she admitted. "I've been sleeping with my notes under my pillow. Hoping it works through osmosis."
Ady chuckled. "Let me know if it does. I'll try it too."
They talked for a few more minutes. Just light stuff—exams, classmates, group work drama. Nothing deep. Nothing like before.
Then Ady said, "I need to go. Still have to finish something. But I'll message again, okay?"
"Okay," Ellie said.
"Take care, El."
"You too."
The call ended.
She stared at her screen.
Why did it feel like they were becoming strangers again?
Overthinking and Overload
Days turned into another week.
One message on Tuesday. None on Wednesday. A heart reaction to a story on Thursday. A three-word reply on Friday.
Ellie tried to stay calm. Tried to focus on her own finals. But her chest felt heavier every day.
What if he was tired of her?
What if he realized long-distance was too much?
What if he found someone closer? Someone easier?
One night, unable to sleep, she opened their old chat.
She scrolled all the way up — back to the "Hi" that started it all. The first jokes. The late-night talks. The first "I miss you."
And then she cried.
Quietly. With her pillow over her face.
Because she missed him.
Because she didn't know if he still missed her.
Because this kind of silence hurt more than any argument ever could.
Ady, Alone
Ady stared at the unread messages on his phone.
He wanted to reply. He really did.
But how do you say "I'm not okay" without sounding like you're giving up?
How do you explain to someone you care about that your mind is drowning?
He thought of Ellie's laugh. Her voice. Her random stories. Her stubbornness.
He missed all of it.
But he didn't know how to show up half-present.
So instead, he sent her a message at 2:14 AM.
Sorry I've been distant. Finals got me real bad. Just wanted you to know I still think about you. Hope you're okay.
He put the phone down.
And for the first time in a week, he allowed himself to cry too.
Ellie read the message the next morning.
She didn't reply right away.
Not because she didn't want to.
But because she needed to sit with it first.
She stared at his words, wondering if they were enough. If this was still something worth holding onto.
Love wasn't always loud. Sometimes it was quiet and aching and uncertain.
Sometimes, it looked like two people still caring… but not knowing how to show it.
Sometimes, it was about surviving the silence.