The room was quiet except for the low hum of the ceiling fan. Outside, traffic passed in irregular bursts, horns blaring and fading like waves. George sat on the edge of his bed, shoes still on, jacket forgotten. He hadn't meant to sit down. It just happened.
He tried to remember what he'd said. Nothing desperate. Nothing heavy. Just a simple question about her day, followed by a joke he knew she would normally tease him for.
The first day had been easy. People got busy. He'd told himself that.
The second day was quieter. Heavier. He checked his phone less often, as if distance could make the silence smaller.
By the third day, he no longer checked the time. He only noticed the absence.
The last message George sent Tiffany was left on read.
He stared at the screen long enough for it to go dark, then placed the phone face down, as if that would stop the silence from spreading. He exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that came from habit rather than relief. His thumb hovered over the screen again, then dropped to his side.
Tiffany used to reply quickly. Sometimes too quickly. Even when she was busy, she'd find time to send a single word. A laughing emoji. Something.
Three days.
That was how long it had been since her last message. Long enough to pretend it was nothing. Too long to believe it was accidental.
He typed her name again.
The cursor blinked patiently, waiting.
Did I do something wrong?
He erased it.
Are you okay?
Gone.
Each attempt felt like crossing a line he'd promised himself he wouldn't step over.
He'd promised himself he wouldn't chase anyone who didn't want to be found.
In public, George was easy. Smiles came naturally to him. People mistook that for confidence, and confidence for carelessness. They thought attention followed him because he chased it. They didn't see how carefully he chose who to let close.
People already assumed enough about him. This would just give them another reason.
George locked his phone and slid it into his pocket. The room felt different afterward quieter in a way that had nothing to do with sound.
If Tiffany was done, then he would be too.
He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and stepped out into the night, carrying a silence he hadn't asked for but would learn to live with.