The message blinked at her like an open wound.
"That's funny."
Nayla read it back, frowned, and deleted it. It didn't sound like her. Too polite. Too… expected.
She tried again.
"Lol."
Deleted it.
Again.
She groaned softly and tossed the phone beside her, then rolled onto her back, watching the ceiling fan spin lazy circles above. The room was dim, quiet, just how she liked it. But the silence now felt different. Heavier. It pressed on her chest like a truth she wasn't ready to say out loud.
The meme Raka had sent genuinely made her laugh an actual chuckle, which was rare. Something about its absurdity mixed with his timing just… got her. But putting that reaction into words? It felt unnatural. Like mimicking a language she hadn't fully learned. She could appreciate humor. But translating that appreciation into the kind of quick, emoji-filled banter people expected? That part never came easily.
She wanted to respond. She did care. But every time she tried to type something, it sounded fake. Forced. Not her.
So instead of saying anything, she said nothing.
And somewhere miles away, Raka noticed.
He sat on his couch, thumb tapping the edge of his phone, refreshing their chat even though he already knew Read. No reply. Again.
He wasn't angry. Not really. He just… didn't understand.
It was just a meme, yeah. Stupid and goofy. But it wasn't about the meme. It was about the moment. He'd wanted to make her laugh. Make her think of him in that quiet space between hours.
And maybe just maybe get something back. A tiny crack in her silence. A window into what she was feeling. If she was feeling anything.
The silence that came after something warm always felt the worst. Like kissing someone and then watching them walk away without a word.
Hot when they were together. Cold when they were apart.
He closed the app. Reopened it. Still nothing.
He didn't want her to change. Not really. He liked her complexity, her stillness, the way she didn't say things unless they mattered. But part of him still ached for a little more effort. A little proof that she was trying to meet him halfway.
Back in her room, Nayla sat up. Reached for her phone. Stared at the blank space where her reply should've been. No new messages.
She wanted to say something. Even a "thank you." Or "that made me laugh."
But the words didn't come.
Instead, she saved the meme.
Quietly moved it into a private folder on her phone called: "Things that made me smile."
Then she placed the phone face-down on her nightstand.
And went to sleep.
Still silent.
But holding him close in her own, hidden way.