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My phone lit up again. A message from him—again.

Raj:

Still on for tomorrow?

I’ll probably be late. Wrapping something for the drop.

But I’ll be there.

Unless you don’t want me to be.

That last line made my stomach pull. He felt it—the distance.

Not just in the days we hadn’t spoken, but in what had been said without words. The pause. The ache underneath mysilence. The way I hadn’t responded to the footage, the headlines, the noise.

But this—this was him reaching anyway.

There was another message right behind it.

Raj:

Also…

I heard the track. Still hearing it.

That was something else. Because you let yourself be vulnerable and free.

My breath caught.

Because he hadn’t just listened. He’dheardme.

Not the branded version of myself. Not the media-trained woman who knew which angles flattered and which notes soared. He heard what I buried. What I’d let spill without armor.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

I considered not replying. Considered letting the silence speak for me, just a little longer. But I couldn’t.

Me:

It wasn’t meant for anyone to hear.

But I’m… glad you did.

The dots appeared. Then disappeared.

Then returned again.

Raj:

Maybe it was meant.

Just not for everyone.

You sounded like somebody remembering herself.

My throat tightened.

Because that was exactly what it was. A remembering. A return and the scariest part was I didn’t know if I could stay there.