It had been five months.

  No calls. No texts. Just silence and the hum of life moving on.

  Christopher had stopped waiting. He focused on work, started going to the gym, met new people, and even smiled for real sometimes. But every once in a while — when a certain song came on or he passed their favorite taco spot — he’d feel that old ache in his chest.

  Then one night, just after midnight, his phone lit up.

  Jewel: “Are you up?”

  He stared at it for a while. Then typed.

  Christopher: “Yeah.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting across from him at the diner they used to hit after late-night drives. Same booth. Same coffee. Everything familiar, but not quite the same.

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  “I didn’t think you’d come,” she said softly, stirring her drink.

  “I didn’t think you’d text.”

  She looked down, then met his eyes. “I’ve been meaning to. I just… didn’t know what to say.”

  “Try the truth.”

  She sighed. “I miss you. Not just the hangouts or the jokes. I miss you. I hate that I pushed you away.”

  Christopher nodded slowly, but there was a new weight to him now — calm, but guarded. “What changed?”

  “I guess I thought you’d always be there,” she whispered. “And when you weren’t, I realized how much that hurt.”

  His eyes softened, but only a little. “You still don’t want me like that, though.

  Right?”

  She didn’t answer. Silence said enough.

  “Then we’re just friends again?” he asked.

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “If that’s still okay with you.”

  He took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah… just friends.”

  But this time, the words didn’t sting.

  They just felt… hollow.