John and his friends had gone their separate ways the moment they stepped off the train, each heading in different directions toward their homes. They hadn't planned any hangouts for the next day, which meant he had the rest of the night and all of tomorrow to himself before returning to work with Ms. Marie.
As John began his walk back home, the events of the day replayed in his mind. It had been a long time since he'd had this much fun—so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to simply enjoy the moment, to let go of the constant stress that weighed on his shoulders. Today had been different. It had been freeing, like a temporary escape from the burdens of everyday life.
He pulled out his phone and checked the time.
7:30 PM.
That's when it hit him. His mother would be home.
John's mood darkened instantly.
John: So it's back to the same old, same old?
No matter how much fun he had outside, returning home always brought him back to reality. His home wasn't a place of warmth or comfort. It wasn't somewhere he looked forward to going at the end of the day. The moment he stepped through that door, the weight of his everyday life would settle back onto his shoulders like an iron chain.
But then, another thought crossed his mind—one that brought a soft smile to his face.
Lonelygirl4556.
Their conversation from the night before resurfaced in his memory. The way she spoke, the way she understood what it meant to be alone. Their circumstances were different, but the feeling was the same. That isolation, that longing to be understood—she got it.
She was the first person in a long time who truly felt like she saw him.
John slowed his pace as he scrolled through their chat, rereading her messages. Every word, every sentence only reaffirmed what he had already come to realize—she understood him in a way no one else had.
And for the first time in a long while, John felt… safe.
He felt like he could open up to her about things he never told anyone.
But then, just as quickly as that thought came, doubt followed.
John: Everything?
He stopped walking.
A cold sensation settled in his chest as he realized something—he wasn't entirely sure if he should tell her everything.
John: Wouldn't that be too much?
She wasn't a therapist. She was just a girl he met online. Was it fair to burden her with all the things he had been carrying? Would she even want to hear it?
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself.
John: Damn it.
He had been so caught up in the excitement of finally finding someone who understood him that he never stopped to consider whether he should actually let her in completely.
John let out a heavy sigh, hoping it would somehow ease the conflict in his chest.
It didn't.
John: What do I do now?
His fingers hovered over his phone screen, debating whether to message her and ask what she thought. But no—that wasn't the kind of thing you just asked someone. He needed guidance. He needed to talk to someone who could actually help him make sense of all this.
And then, an idea came to him.
Without hesitating, he scrolled through his contacts and dialed a number.
******
Ms. Marie sat comfortably in her living room, the glow of the television screen casting soft shadows on the walls. A gentle hum filled the room as the evening news played in the background, though she wasn't paying much attention to it. In her hand, she picked at fresh pieces of pineapple from a small bowl beside her, savoring the sweet yet slightly tart flavor.
At her feet, her black cat, Momo, lay curled up in a peaceful nap, its rhythmic breathing the only other sound accompanying the faint noise from the television. The house was quiet—just the way she liked it. Living alone had long since become her norm, and she found solace in the silence.
But then, her phone rang, breaking the tranquility of the moment.
Frowning slightly, she reached over to the coffee table, grabbed her phone, and glanced at the screen.
Her eyebrows rose in mild surprise when she saw the name displayed: John.
It wasn't like him to call out of the blue. In all the time she'd known him, John had never been the type to initiate casual conversations over the phone. Something about this was unusual.
Curious, she muted the TV and answered.
Ms. Marie: Hey, kiddo.
John: Good evening, Ms. Marie.
Ms. Marie: It's unusual for you to call me. Do you miss working with me that badly?
There was a pause, followed by John's nervous stammering.
John: No… I mean… yes… I mean… Argh!
Ms. Marie: (chuckled) Relax kiddo. I'm messing with you. Geez, you're always like this.
John: (muttering) Sorry, ma'am
Her smile faded slightly as she adjusted her posture.
Ms. Marie: So what's wrong? Why did you call?
There was another silence, but this one was heavier. Ms. Marie could almost hear the gears turning in John's mind, as if he were debating how much to say.
Finally, after a deep breath, he spoke.
John: You see… the thing is… Ms. Marie… I'm in a tough situation, and I didn't know who else to call.
Ms. Marie tilted her head.
Ms. Marie: And you called me? Why? What about your parents? Aren't you supposed to be talking about this kind of thing with them?
At that moment, everything on John's end went completely still.
It was rare—almost unheard of—for someone to ask about his family. Most people never questioned him about it, either because they simply didn't think to or because John never gave them a reason to.
But every now and then, someone would ask, and it always caught him off guard.
Ms. Marie heard his shaky breath over the phone, and then, in a voice much quieter than before, he answered.
John: I never knew my dad. And my mother… isn't the best person to talk to about stuff like this or anything in particular.
He hesitated for a beat before adding,
John: To be honest, you're the closest thing to an actual mother that I've had in a while, Ms. Marie.
The admission made Ms. Marie sit up properly on the couch, her heart clenching in her chest.
She had always suspected that John had a difficult past, but he never spoke about it openly. He carried himself with the quiet burden of someone who had seen more hardship than most his age. And now, hearing it confirmed in his own words, she understood.
Ms. Marie: (to herself) He's had it rough huh? (to John) Alright kiddo, what do you want to talk about?
On the other end of the line, John let out a sigh of relief, grateful that she didn't press further into his family history.
After clearing his throat, he spoke again.
John: So, Ms. Marie, let's say there's a person who's been alone for a long time… not just physically, but emotionally. Someone who's been going through things that regular people could never understand, so they don't bother talking about it with anyone.
Ms. Marie hummed in understanding as he continued.
John: And then… one day, they meet someone who actually has the capacity to understand everything they've been through. Someone who gets it. Should they open up to that person?
Ms. Marie took a moment to fully absorb the question.
She had always believed that wisdom came with age, but she also knew that the best wisdom came from truly understanding the person asking for it. And right now, there was no doubt in her mind—John wasn't talking about some random "person." He was talking about himself.
Ms. Marie: Well, John, I think the answer is pretty obvious. You go for it, you blockhead.
John was completely thrown off by her response.
John: Eh? I should?
Ms Marie: Yes. (takes a deep breath) John, you're talking about yourself, aren't you?
John: Huh? No, no, it isn't—
Ms. Marie: Hah! You think I haven't noticed the way you've been acting since you started working for me?
John gulped as he didn't expect that Ms. Marie would figure it out so quickly nor had he thought she had been noticing his changing character in the past week. You always seemed sad. Like you were carrying a weight that no one else could see. But for the past three weeks, you haven't had that look anymore. This person you met is the reason for that, isn't it?
John gulped. He hadn't expected her to figure it out so quickly.
John: You…you got me, Ms. Marie.
Ms. Marie smirked knowingly as she continued, her voice carrying the warmth and wisdom of someone who had seen far more of life than John had.
Ms. Marie: John, if you've found someone who truly understands you—someone who can carry the weight with you without judgment—then I say you go for it. People like that are rare, kiddo. Some people search their entire lives and never find them. And those who don't? Well, they end up alone, carrying burdens they were never meant to bear alone. So tell me, right now, you're unsure about opening up to them, aren't you?
John let out a slow breath.
John: Yeah…
Ms. Marie gave a knowing nod, her voice calm but firm.
Ms. Marie: That means, at some point, the idea of sharing everything with them crossed your mind, right?
John: Yes ma'am.
Ms. Marie: Then let me ask you this—what made you believe you could trust this person in the first place?
John blinked, caught off guard by the question. His mind drifted back to those late nights scrolling through her poems, feeling the weight of her words seep into him. He remembered their first conversation, how her words mirrored thoughts he had never been able to put into his own. The memory filled his chest with an odd kind of warmth.
He suddenly had his answer.
John: She writes poems.
Ms. Marie raised an eyebrow.
Ms. Marie: She?
John smiled faintly, the thought of Lonelygirl4556's poetry making his voice soften.
John: She writes poems. But she doesn't just write them—she breathes life into them. You can feel the weight behind every word, the rawness, the loneliness…I know that feeling all too well. And when I read her poems, it's like looking into a mirror. I can see it. I can feel it. It's real.
Ms. Marie hummed thoughtfully.
Ms. Marie: So that's why you felt safe with her. That's why you wanted to open up. But now… (she paused) why do you suddenly feel the opposite?
John froze.
His breath hitched, and his grip on the phone tightened. He hadn't asked himself that before.
Before his call with Ms. Marie, he had been overwhelmed by the doubt creeping in, but now—faced with the question head-on—he had no choice but to search for the answer. His mouth opened, and before he could even think about it, the words spilled out:
John: I…I'm scared.
Ms. Marie remained silent, allowing him the space to continue.
John: I…I'm scared of opening up to her. I'm scared of being vulnerable for the first time ever.
His voice was barely above a whisper, yet the weight of the admission felt crushing. Vulnerability—it was foreign, unfamiliar, something he had spent years avoiding. The idea of baring himself, of exposing those hidden pieces of himself to someone else, terrified him. What if she didn't understand? What if she saw his flaws and decided he wasn't worth the effort?
Ms. Marie's voice was soft but firm.
Ms. Marie: And that, right there, should be the reason you go through with it, kiddo.
John swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest.
Ms.Marie: If you want to end the loneliness you've been drowning in, you have to take deliberate steps to purge it. You said her poems made you feel like she was someone you could trust, right? So why hold back now? If you don't take this chance, you might regret it for the rest of your life. You and this girl…you understand each other in a way most people never do. That's special. Don't waste it.
John sat there, absorbing her words, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt…lighter.
It was as if an invisible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The tension that had been gripping his chest loosened, replaced by a warmth he hadn't felt in years. Ms. Marie's words weren't just advice—they were a lifeline.
For so long, he had envied people who had someone to lean on, someone to confide in. And now, when he had the chance to have that himself, he was letting fear hold him back.
No.
He wasn't going to let fear win this time.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he exhaled, his voice no longer carrying the sadness from before.
John: Thank you, Ms. Marie. And I'm really sorry for bothering you this late.
She chuckled, and he could almost hear the amusement in her voice.
Ms. Marie: Oh, don't you worry about that, kiddo. (she glanced at her muted TV with a sigh.) It's just what grown-ups are supposed to do.
John chuckled softly, shaking his head.
Ms. Marie: Now, get some rest, alright? You have a good night, you hear me?
John: Yeah. Good night, Ms. Marie.
As he ended the call, he found himself still smiling.
Stepping into his apartment building, he felt lighter, more certain than before. He knew what he had to do now.
He wasn't going to let fear keep him in the dark any longer.
With renewed determination, John climbed the stairs, his mind set on the next step he was going to take.
And this time, he wasn't going to hesitate.