My phone lit up.
12:08 a.m.
It was Jayden. Again.
I didn't even have to open the message to know what it said.
Probably something like:
"I miss you."
"You up?"
"Can we talk?"
He always texted when it was dark. When no one else was around. When he thought I'd still be waiting.
And for the longest time, I was.
I used to grab my phone so fast, just to feel like he still thought about me. I would stare at the screen, heart pounding, wondering what he really meant. Was he sorry this time? Did he finally realize I mattered?
But tonight, I just looked at his name.
No smile. No tears. Just… quiet.
Jayden used to be everything to me. He was loud, exciting, unpredictable. He made me feel special when he felt like it. And invisible when I needed him most.
We were together for two years. On and off. Mostly off toward the end.
He said he wasn't ready for something serious.
But somehow, I was always serious enough to call when he was lonely.
I knew what I was.
Not the girlfriend. Not even the side chick. Just the backup.
I was the one he came to when his other plans fell through. The one who picked up the pieces after he disappeared for days. The one who answered at midnight even when I had work in the morning.
And I hated how much I still wanted him to change.
I set the phone down, screen still glowing. I didn't open the message.
I walked to the kitchen to make tea. It was a habit now green tea with honey. Something to keep my hands busy so I wouldn't reach for my phone again.
The kettle whistled.
My apartment was small but quiet. I had just moved in two months ago. A fresh start. New walls, new energy. But somehow, Jayden's name still echoed here.
He had never been inside this apartment. That was on purpose. I told myself if he didn't come in, he couldn't take up space again.
But the truth is, he never even asked to visit.
He liked me better when I was easy to reach, not when I had boundaries.
I sat on the couch with my tea and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. The message still sat unopened. A small part of me still wondered, What if it's different this time?
But I already knew. It never was.
He would say he missed me.
He would ask how I was doing.
He'd throw in a "just checking on you," like we were still close.
And if I replied, he'd probably invite himself over, or ask to "talk."
But "talk" usually meant hold me for a night and then disappear again for two weeks.
I used to blame myself. Maybe I was too emotional. Maybe I asked for too much. Maybe if I just stayed quiet, didn't bring up the way he hurt me, he would stay.
But I've started to realize something.
Wanting to be loved properly is not asking for too much.
Wanting to be someone's first choice is not crazy.
Wanting consistency is not needy.
It's basic. It's human.
I sipped my tea slowly and opened my journal. A gift from Sasha, my best friend. The front said:
"Write what hurts until it doesn't."
So I wrote.
He texted again.
Midnight, as usual. I didn't answer.
I wanted to. But I'm tired of begging for crumbs.
I want the whole meal.
Love that's steady. Safe. Seen.
Not love that knocks when it's convenient.
I stared at the page, then underlined the last line twice.
A tear rolled down my cheek not because I missed him, but because I missed who I was before him. The girl who smiled easily. The girl who laughed without checking her phone. The girl who believed she was enough.
I was learning to become her again.
Piece by piece.
The next morning, I woke up and deleted Jayden's message without reading it.
No drama. No speech. No "we need to talk."
Just delete.
It felt like power.
I put on my headphones and played my favorite song a soft one, with lyrics that felt like a hug.
I made breakfast. Eggs and toast. I even lit a candle, just because. The kind of small act that says:
"You deserve peace. Even if no one else is watching."
Later that day, I texted Sasha.
Me: He messaged me last night. I didn't reply.
Sasha: 👏👏👏 Look at you choosing yourself!!
Me: It was hard. But not as hard as pretending he still cared.
She sent back a heart emoji and a line I'd seen her post before:
"You're not hard to love. He was just bad at loving."
I saved that one.
Because maybe the problem was never that I loved too hard.
Maybe it was that I kept giving love to someone who didn't know how to hold it.
I'm not healed yet. But I'm healing.
And for the first time in a long time, I'm not crying over a man who never showed up.
That night, I turned my phone off before bed.
Not on silent.
Off.
Because maybe peace doesn't come when they apologize.
Maybe peace comes when we stop waiting for one.
And maybe… just maybe… someone better is on the way.
Not someone perfect.
Just someone who shows up in the daylight not after midnight.