Melissa
Iknow he’s going to cancel before the text even comes through.
It’s a feeling. The kind you get when you’ve lived enough life to recognize patterns forming before they announce themselves. I’m standing in my kitchen with my phone face down on the counter, olive oil heating in the pan, the soft hiss filling the space like a countdown.
We didn’t plan anything fancy. That’s the part that stings.
Just dinner at my place. He said he’d come by after work. He made a comment about how he was letting me “judge” his wine choices, which felt like progress in itself. I smiled at my phone when I read it.
Then my phone vibrates. I don’t pick it up right away.
When I do, the message is exactly what I expected, which is somehow still disappointing.
Colton: Running late. Don’t wait up.
I stare at the words longer than necessary, my thumb hovering over the screen.
Don’t wait up. NotI’m sorry. NotI didn’t mean for this to happen. NotCan we do tomorrow instead?
I typeOkayand delete it.
TypeNo worries!and delete that too.
I finally send a simple:
Me: Okay.
It’s neutral. It’s safe. It doesn’t ask for anything.
I put the phone down and turn back to the stove, forcing myself to stay present. The vegetables sizzle. The apartment smells good. Normal. Grounded.
This isn’t a big deal, I tell myself.
This isn’t worth a reaction.
And it’s true. I’m not angry.
But as I plate the food and sit down alone, something heavy settles in my chest anyway. A quiet disappointment that doesn’t need drama to exist.
It’s not about dinner.
It’s about the assumption that I’ll adapt to his schedule, no matter what.
Hours later, after I’ve eaten by myself and had my own glass of wine … there’s still no sign of him. Good thing I didn’t wait for him because I don’t think he’s coming.
I decide to go to sleep early, turning my phone on silent.
The next morning, I get up early to head into work and find him exactly where I expect to.
His office light is on, the hallway outside mostly empty, the hospital not yet starting its morning bustle. I hesitate outside the open door longer than I meant to, my hand lifting and falling once before I knock.
“Come in,” he says absently, already buried in paperwork.
I step inside. “Hey.”
He looks up immediately, surprise flickering across his face. “Melissa.”
“Long night?” I ask lightly.
