Chapter 1: The Silent Goodbye

When did you finally decide to let go of someone you really loved?

For me, it happened on a plain old Tuesday, and somehow, I just knew.

It was just another ordinary day—gray sky overhead, the low buzz of campus traffic, the smell of burnt coffee from the student center clinging to my coat. Nothing special about it, except for the way everything quietly shifted inside me.

I didn’t write some big goodbye text, didn’t post anything on my Instagram story, didn’t even tell my friends.

No cryptic Taylor Swift lyrics on my feed, no group chat meltdown, not even a meme to hint at heartbreak. I just let the day roll on, as if nothing had changed—even though everything had.

I just didn’t reply to the last message he sent me on Facebook Messenger. That was it.

Usually, I was the one who ended our chats. But this time was different—he messaged me first: “What was the name of that amazing Korean BBQ spot you mentioned at Riverwalk Plaza?”

I saw his little avatar pop up—he still had that old photo from graduation. Never changed it. For a second, I almost typed back right away, the way I always did. But this time, I just… didn’t.

I was in the middle of talking with my advisor about study abroad. When my phone lit up with his profile picture, I glanced at the notification, then stuffed my phone back in my bag. Didn’t reply.

My advisor was explaining the exchange program housing, her voice steady and reassuring. I forced a polite smile, shoved my phone deeper in my bag, and nodded like nothing had happened.

I smiled at my advisor and said, “Sorry, go ahead.”

She smiled back, giving me that look adults get when they think you’re distracted by something trivial. She had no idea. I tried to focus on the paperwork in front of me, letting Brandon’s message fade into the background.

Later, I forgot all about it. Or at least, I thought I did.

It wasn’t until I was walking back from the coffee shop, the wind chilly against my cheeks, that I saw another message from him—a single question mark.

That tiny punctuation mark glared up at me from my phone screen. It was so him—impatient, a little annoyed. I could practically hear his low voice, that edge he got when he thought I was ignoring him.

Crap. I hadn’t replied.

That wasn’t like me. I’m usually pretty detached—busy with classes, internships, lab reports. But any free time I had, I set aside for Brandon.

He was the only person I pinned to the top of my Messenger. Only him.

Do Not Disturb—except for him.

Even when my world was chaos, when everything else was falling apart, he was always the one notification I’d never mute. Always.

Whenever he messaged me first, I’d always reply right away, grinning like an idiot.

Didn’t matter if his replies were sparse and distant.

Didn’t matter.

Sometimes I’d watch those three little dots, hoping for a real conversation, only to get a one-word answer or a thumbs-up. Still, I always answered. Always tried.

This time, I sent him the restaurant’s name. Six hours. I didn’t explain.

For once, he actually asked, “Busy?”

I just let it sit.

Why didn’t I reply? Maybe because I was about to graduate—busy with finals, busy writing my thesis, busy with all the paperwork for studying abroad.

So busy I didn’t even have time to reply.

Or maybe, deep down, I was just tired. Tired of being the only one who cared enough to answer right away, tired of always being available. Blue and gray. Always more blue. I scrolled through our old conversations, the lopsided pattern of bubbles staring back at me.

Scrolling down, I saw Mariah had sent me a location and a message. My chest tightened for a second.

Of course. It was the very Korean BBQ spot Brandon had just asked about.

“Lila, come over after you finish with Dr. Stewart. We’re celebrating.”

No hesitation. I smiled and replied, “On my way.”

Mariah didn’t play games. Her texts were straightforward. Comforting. I could almost hear her laughter echoing from a corner booth, the sound of K-pop drifting from the speakers.