It was just past 2:30 p.m., but I didn't know that. I wasn't checking the time anymore. What was the point?
I was curled in bed, my blanket pulled over my head like a shield against the world. My phone lay somewhere near my pillow, its silence louder than any scream. My head ached — a dull, rhythmic throb just behind my eyes, like my body was trying to cry but didn't know how anymore.
I wasn't asleep. I wasn't awake, either. I was stuck in that strange place in between. The place where your thoughts feel like ghosts — shifting, shapeless, whispering doubts into every corner of your mind.
I thought of Nigel. Again. As if my brain had any other setting left.
I thought about what he might be doing. If he was laughing. Sleeping. Forgetting I existed. I kept trying to remember the sound of his voice, the way his fingers used to trace circles on the back of my neck . I held onto memories like they were lifelines — except they were fraying, snapping, slipping through my grip.
My eyes burned. I hadn't cried, not really. I didn't have the strength.
Then at 4:02 p.m., I picked up my phone.
I don't even know why. Muscle memory, maybe. Or hope. That old, desperate hope I couldn't kill no matter how much it hurt me.
And there it was.
A notification.
Nigel: hmm
I stared.
Read it once. Twice. Then again.
I blinked, thinking maybe I misread it. Maybe it would shift into something else. Anything else.
But no.
Just that.
Hmm.
A single syllable. A sound. Not even a word. Not even an emotion.
After days of silence, of waiting, of writing unsent messages and poems he'll never read — he gave me "hmm."
That's all I was worth?
That's all the apology meant to him?
I dropped the phone on the bed and sat up slowly, like every inch of my body was coated in cement. My head spun. My throat felt like it was closing.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to shatter the screen. I wanted to go back in time and stop myself from ever falling for him.
But most of all… I just wanted to die.
Aurora's name lit up my phone next.
Calling.
She probably missed me. She always did — and coincidentally called.
Always.
Almost always when i fall.
But I couldn't answer. I couldn't hear anyone's voice right now. I couldn't survive the kindness in hers, not when I felt this small.
I let the call ring out. Then again. Then silence.
I picked the phone up. Opened the chat. Read the message again.
Hmm.
What did it even mean? Was it anger? Boredom? Indifference? Hate? A goodbye?
Was it his way of brushing me off without having to deal with me? Was it the final nail in the coffin?
I don't know how long I sat there, eyes fixed on that tiny, stupid message. Five minutes? Twenty? Almost an hour? Time stretched into something meaningless.
I tried to breathe.
But it hurt.
My brain started spiraling. Every thought sharper than the last.
He hates me. He must. Who treats someone they love like this? Who goes silent for days and then replies like that?
Even when I was angry at him, I never did this. Atleast not THIS.Even when he broke me with his words, I still waited with hope. I still believed he'd come back — softer. Warmer. Still mine.
But this?
This was CRUEL.
I kept thinking: Even when you hurt someone you love accidentally, don't you try to fix it once you know? Don't you reach out? Apologize?
Nigel didn't.
He went silent.
He watched me drown.
And when I reached out a shaking hand to say I was sorry… he handed me a blade instead of a rope.
A "hmm."
A SCAR.
I lay back down and curled into myself again. My mind wouldn't stop screaming.
He doesn't love you. He doesn't care. He's moved on.
I buried my face into the pillow and thought, Please God, let this be a nightmare.
I didn't want to be dramatic. I didn't want to think about dying. But thoughts like that don't ask permission before they come.
They crawl in slowly. Whisper gently.
Maybe if you disappeared, he'd notice.
Maybe if you were gone, your pain would finally make sense to him.
Maybe?
Maybe not.
I didn't want to believe them. I fought them with every piece of me that still remembered who I was. But they were loud. And I was so tired.
I picked up the phone again.
My fingers hovered.
I didn't want to leave him on read. I didn't want to make him feel what he made me feel.
It wasn't revenge.
NOTHING could repay the wounds he carved into me — not words, not silence, not anything.
I typed:
hm
And hit send.
Not because I had something to say.
But because I didn't.
Because I had nothing left.
Because even now, I couldn't ignore him. Even when he barely acknowledged me.
I locked the screen and set the phone aside.
My chest felt hollow. Like someone had scooped everything out and left a vacuum behind.
I couldn't believe it.
After everything. After all the memories, the shared laughter, the whispered I love yous — this was it?
A conversation reduced to two meaningless syllables.
Hmm. Hm.
I started shaking again.
Did he ever love me? I whispered aloud. My voice barely audible, even to myself.
I remembered how he used to hold my hand like it was fragile. How he used to call me "my baby." How he would send random texts just to say he missed me. How he promised he'd never leave without a word.
Now I was choking on his silence.
I touched my forehead, trying to will the headache away. But it wasn't physical anymore. It was emotional. It was everything at once.
I would've been happy with an 'I forgive you,' I thought. Even if you didn't mean it. Even if it was just to ease my heart.
But this?
This was worse than anything I'd imagined.
He didn't just ignore me.
He minimized me.
Reduced all my pain, my love, my longing into a sound he probably sent while scrolling Instagram or talking to someone else.
I pressed my palm to my chest. I couldn't breathe.
How could you, Nigel?
How could you treat me like this?
I wasn't asking you to fix me. I wasn't asking for a miracle. I was just hoping you'd hold space for me. That you'd at least remember I'm HUMAN. That I feel things.
But you? You handed me silence like a punishment. And then you handed me "hmm" like it was mercy.
I never even treated an animal like that.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run until my lungs burst.
But all I did was lie still. Shattered.
I Loved You.
I still do.
And maybe that's the worst part.
You're the one person who could destroy me like this, and I still crave your voice.
Even when your words hurt.
Even when your silence kills.
You were supposed to be my safety.
Now you're the storm.
I whispered into the pillow, "I don't want anyone else. I just want Nigel."
But even as I said it, I knew…
He didn't want me.
Not really.
Not the way I needed.
And maybe that's the truth I was too scared to face.
I sat up, slowly. My joints ached like I hadn't moved in days.
I walked to the mirror and stared at myself.
Wanting to scream.
Scream at the girl i saw in the mirror.
A girl who gave too much. Felt too much.
And got crumbs in return.
But I couldn't hate him. Not even now.
Because I remembered the way he used to hold my face in his hands and say, "I've got you, Rue."
I remembered the warmth of his hugs. The softness in his voice. The little jokes. The late night "you are perfect"
messages.
I remembered it all.
And maybe that's why it hurt this bad.
Because I knew what he was capable of.
I knew how good he could be.
And this version of him — cold, distant, dismissive — it felt like watching someone I love morph into a stranger.
I curled back into bed and stared at the ceiling.
It was 5:12 p.m.
Just two hours since I'd seen the message.
And already it felt like an eternity.